Love & War
by BeforeYouKnowIt
Summary: Separated by society, brought together by war; Branson & Sybil's story, beginning where the first series left off!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own Downton Abbey, if I did there would be a lot more Sybil/Branson screen time and no waiting until next year for more episodes!

My first fanfic, so be nice! Constructive criticism & ideas always welcome so let me know what you think & whether it's worth continuing!

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"I very much regret to announce...that we are at war with Germany"

A collective gasp swept across the crowd as Lord Grantham announced the news, followed by a period of stunned silence. Branson had known it was only a matter of time before war broke out, but now it was declared it made it real and he was as shocked as everyone else. From his position at the edge of the garden party, with the rest of the servants, he had a good view of the whole crowd. He glanced to the right and his gaze fell upon a group of guests, all mirroring his disbelief. His eyes sought out one person in particular, the one whom he had hugged just mere minutes ago in joy without a care in the world; Lady Sybil.

The first time that he had met her she immediately made an impression. It wasn't merely her beauty, which he could not deny she possessed, that had caught his attention, but her enthusiasm and passion when it came to her beliefs, and a determination to defy her family, and society itself, to follow them. The fact that her outlook was so similar to his made him take notice, and so he did all he could to sustain her interest in politics, such as picking up pamphlets on the vote for her to read.

He took in her profile from where he stood, her countenance had transformed from the happy, spirited girl he knew to a look of shock and sorrow that he would do anything to take away. Sybil suddenly lifted her head and looked over in his direction. Branson's breath caught in his throat as she caught his gaze and held it, a look of concern and worry flitted across her soft features before her eyes returned to her father at the centre of the crowd.

The moment only lasted a second, but it left his heart beating wildly in his chest, and he found Mrs Hughes' words from earlier being echoed back to him; "You'll end up with no job and a broken heart"

Sybil certainly had a profound effect on him, but he had yet to work out what kind of effect it was. Despite this, he couldn't help but agree with Mrs Hughes; he could only see it ending badly for himself.

He sighed and also returned his gaze to Lord Grantham, waiting for him to break the silence.

"I suggest we make the most of this while we can" Grantham stated solemnly, gesturing to the party. He turned in a circle to look at the surrounding crowd, sparing a long glance for each of his daughters before his gaze landed on his wife. He nodded to his guests with a muttering of "please continue" and headed towards her.

His words seemed to break everyone out of a trance and soon low murmurings spread across the crowd as everyone discussed the recent devastating news. The atmosphere had transformed from cheerful to serious and Branson couldn't help but imagine the implications the war would have on him, along with everyone else. He shook his head slightly to clear his mind and looked back towards the guests to see everyone in deep conversation, noticing absently as he did so that Sybil was lost somewhere in the crowd, and, realising he would have little work to do for a while, headed back towards the house.

As Branson left he was unaware of the pair of eyes that followed him with interest as he did so.

Sybil was currently discussing the news with her sisters, but caught sight of the family chauffeur as he moved through the crowd heading back to the house. She thought back to the first time they had spoken. Not the standard 'yes milady, no milady', but _actually_ had a conversation. She had admired his unexpected passion for politics and desire for change as soon as she'd first talked to him as he drove her into town and given her the pamphlets, inspiring her to become more political and take an interest in wider issues. She found that they had similar ideas and beliefs, and Sybil had longed to discuss hers with someone; the right for women to vote and do other things that would elevate them closer to the level of men. Branson, she had discovered, wanted to close the gap that existed between those of the upper and lower classes, and she had to admit to agreeing with him on that subject. From then on Sybil knew she had found a kindred spirit in her chauffeur; he was someone she could be open with, someone who would value her opinions rather than dismiss them as foolhardy.

Yet the announcement of the war, she knew, would change everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Special thanks to my awesome reviewers **Queen of the Weevils**,** MissMattSmith**, **tic tac toe 03** & **MontyPythonFan** for all your lovely comments, this chapter's for you guys, hope it lives up to your expectations! :D

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The next few weeks seemed to carry on as normal, despite the news of the war which still loomed over the household. Sybil noticed how her father spent much more time in town, or hidden away in his study, getting news from London about the latest from the Western Front. Mary was the same as ever, though Sybil could tell she was still upset about Cousin Matthew, but the two of them seemed to be getting on better terms as the weeks went by, so Mary's spirits seemed to rise. She saw her mother and Edith now and again, but longed for the stimulating conversations on politics and national affairs that Branson offered her, so gradually seemed to take more trips into town to give herself the opportunity to talk to the chauffeur.

Branson, to his delight, found himself more and more in Sybil's company as the weeks progressed. She seemed to counteract the melancholy air that seemed to surround everyone since war was declared. Each time he drove her to one place or another he'd inform her of the latest news from the front, along with the politics of the war as her father was attempting to shield her from most of it. On the rare times Sybil had seen her father he would not answer her constant questions, so Branson was there to fill in the blanks.

It was a cold, late August morning when Sybil emerged from the front door, ready to be driven into town to visit a friend. She immediately spotted Branson when she exited the house, stood beside the car, and couldn't contain the smile that materialised on her face.

"Good morning milady" he greeted her with a smile in return and a polite nod.

As Branson's hand caught hers to help her up into the backseat, their eyes inadvertently met. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and she attempted to hide the blush that had swept over her face. He didn't seem to notice though as his eyes remained focused intently on hers. Through that one glance they seemed to exchange countless unspoken words, but before either of them could do anything about it a voice called out from the house.

The moment interrupted, both immediately broke the gaze and looked over towards the voice to see Mary heading towards them. Branson's hand remained in Sybil's as he helped her back out of the car again, and they held contact for longer than was perhaps necessary as Mary approached them. Lady Mary seemed to pause for a second, taking in the two of them with a questioning glance as Branson released Sybil's hand, before turning her attention to her younger sister.

"Sybil" she began, "Would you mind terribly if you picked up some more wool for Mama? She's run out already, and all the servants are busy. I thought, since you were going into town anyway…"

Sybil smiled politely at her sister, "Of course not Mary, I'll pick some up on my way back".

Cora had all the girls knitting anything and everything so they could send them to the soldiers fighting on the front lines. Sybil wasn't particularly fond of knitting, but she wanted to do something for the war effort and this was her way of contributing, considering she couldn't just join the army herself.

Mary wavered slightly, deliberating, "Actually, how about I come with you, pick it up myself-"

"No" Sybil cut in, though quickly seemed to compose herself as she realised she may have spoken too harshly, "I mean, it's fine, I can pick it up for you, it's no problem".

Mary paused, then nodded "Thank you, I appreciate it", before sending a dazzling smile her sisters way. As she turned around to head back to the house, her gaze flickered between Sybil and Branson, the latter remaining silent and standing obediently by the car door. She seemed about to say something else before thinking better of it, and so left without another word.

Sybil took in a deep breath and smoothed down her dress, her smile returned and she turned back towards Branson, "Ready to go?"

He looked up from where his gaze had been focused on the ground and nodded with a smile of his own. "Yes milady" he replied, starting up the car and beginning the drive into town.

She realised she hated it when he called her that. It was strange. She had never really minded before, it seemed appropriate for her status for him to call her 'milady', but something had changed. Now it made her feel as if she was so much better than him, when all she wanted was for them to be on equal terms.

Then her mind came back to the question that had been with her for the past week; why couldn't they have been the same class? They could have talked whenever they wanted without it being seen as improper for a _Lady _to converse with a _servant _about anything other than what was necessary for the latter to perform their duty.

She was pulled out of her reverie by Branson's voice from the driver's seat, asking her if she was alright. Sybil nodded, and took the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

"Do you agree with what they're saying?" she began, "about the war being over by Christmas?"

Branson gave a small shake of his head before responding, "If you ask me, the government's saying that to keep up morale. From what I've heard that'll be unlikely, but I think I speak for everyone in hoping for a swift end to the war".

Sybil nodded in understanding, then seemed to consider her next question carefully, "Do you ever think what it's like over there?" she questioned.

Branson paused in thought as her words sent his mind back to the previous day.

He'd known immediately after the war was announced that he would soon volunteer in the army and, after hearing a call for volunteers in town, he had made the decision to enlist. It was so much simpler than he'd imagined it would be; he went, signed up, and was given instructions of where to be at what time to be sent to a local training camp. All he had to do now was hand in his notice to Lord Grantham, and tell everyone he'd soon be leaving.

He wondered how he was going to tell Sybil, and wondered even more how she would react. Would she be upset? Worried? Or was he overestimating how much she cared for him? He pushed the thoughts away and remembered she had just asked him a question. Instead of telling her he'd find out soon enough what it was like at war, he went instead for light humour, wanting to distract himself from imagining what he would see when he went to the front;

"It's probably cold milady, if here's anything to go by"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Thanks again for the awesome reviews! Now time for some drama, enjoyyy :D

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Sybil found herself staring absentmindedly out of the window of her bedroom, her mind gradually wandering towards Branson, which, she had noticed, it seemed to do a lot lately. She had seen little of the chauffeur over the next few days since he had taken her into town, as her father had been using the car much more recently, and she could think of no more excuses to go to town, or find anyone else she wanted to visit that would require Branson to drive her there.

Sybil was confused about how she felt about him; the way she felt whenever she talked to him was something she'd never had with anyone else. She felt nervous when they spoke, and her insides fluttered whenever he held her hand to help her into the carriage, or even when she caught him looking at her. She looked forward to whenever they would meet, and seemed to pass the servant's quarters more often than usual just to increase the possibility of running into him.

Sybil sighed; okay, she definitely had feelings for him. But what could she do about it? It wasn't like she could discuss it openly with anyone. She decided she needed to clear her head, so picked up her gloves off her dressing table and headed outside. She was barely out of the front door when she collided with a figure entering the house at the same time.

"Oh, I'm sorry" she began, glancing at the hand that held onto her arm, keeping her steady, and up to who it belonged to. When she recognised who it was she faltered, "Branson".

"It's my fault milady" he cut in, clearly flustered, as he made sure she was okay and then took a small step back.

She smiled as he rushed to apologise, smoothing down her dress and quickly readjusting her hat, "Don't be silly, I wasn't paying attention".

Branson had been meaning to talk to Sybil for a while, and now the opportunity had been handed to him he wasn't sure where he would begin. He sighed in relief when she struck up a conversation for him.

"How are you? I haven't seen you for a few days; I hope Papa isn't working you too hard with his constant travelling lately".

Branson's heart skipped a beat as a smile lit up her face. It was the kind of smile impossible not to return and so he found himself grinning back at her, "Of course not, it gives me a chance to catch up with things in town anyway" he replied.

Sybil nodded, and then brought up a subject that had been bothering her for a while, as she finally had the chance to talk to him alone.

"I've heard that Thomas is leaving soon" she began, "to join the division at Richmond I believe?", _Are you going too? _She added mentally; she was desperate to find out if he planned on enlisting, but daren't ask for fear his answer would be yes.

Branson nodded, "That's right milady, and William enlisted too, yesterday actually … I-", he paused, considering his next words carefully, "There was something I wanted to tell you".

Sybil took in his expression and knew immediately what he was going to say. She took in a breath and stepped closer to him, her hand reached out, but she withdrew it again, unsure.

"You're going, aren't you?" she asked, even though she knew what the answer would be.

Branson's eyes fell upon her concerned face and he nodded, "I signed up a few days ago".

Sybil's breath caught in her throat as he announced the news, confirming her fears. A few _days _ago? She wondered why he didn't tell her sooner. She should have known anyway, it wasn't like he could stay here for her sake when there was a war going on. This was bigger than her. It was bigger than both of them.

"Oh" she responded, _Oh? That's all you can say? _She scolded herself. "Wh-When do you leave Downton?", _me_ she thought, _when do you leave me?_

"I'm to be sent to a training camp in a few days" he answered.

"So soon?" she replied, still not fully taking in the news, "Have you told my father yet?" she added, almost as an afterthought.

"I'm on my way to hand in my notice now"

Sybil nodded her understanding, unsure of what to say next. She just wanted to tell him not to go, that he had a job here. She was here. He didn't need to go to war, there were enough other brave men that could do that instead. But she knew this would be futile so remained silent, contemplating the effect his leaving would have.

Branson, remembering where he had been heading before running into Sybil, gestured to her father's study, "If you'll excuse me milady, I've a meeting with his Lordship".

"Oh, of course" she responded, all the while attempting to conceal her inner turmoil following his admission.

He gave a quick nod in her direction and reluctantly began to head towards where he was to meet with Lord Grantham. Before Sybil knew what she was doing, she called out to him, making him stop in his tracks halfway down the hallway.

"Tom?"

Branson turned around, realising, probably before even Sybil herself did, that she'd called him by his first name. He had no idea what to make of it, but decided not to question it.

"Yes milady?" He asked, waiting for her to continue.

Sybil wasn't sure why she'd called him back. She knew there was so much she wanted to say to him, but had no idea how to put it into words. So she decided to go for something that would guarantee that they would see each other again.

"You'd better not leave without saying goodbye to me, okay?"

He gave her a warm smile and nodded, before turning around and heading up to see Lord Grantham.

She watched him as he left, a million thoughts swirling around in her head. She took a step back and fell down into the nearest chair, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach as it finally hit her. What if he never came back? What would she do then? She had no idea when she had become so fond of him, and even less clue when it had become, at least to her anyway, something more. It seemed to have crept up on her to pounce when she was least expecting it. She realised now she had feelings for him, and she didn't want him to leave. She felt tears stinging her eyes and hastily wiped them away before they could fall.

She'd finally worked out her feelings and now he was being taken away from her.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I feel I'm putting these characters through the mill, but things must get worse before they can get better! :D

Thanks again for the reviews! They make me write faster & it's much more fun doing this than the history essay I should be writing :D x

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Sybil woke up with the familiar feeling of dread she'd had ever since Branson had told her he had enlisted. Today was the day he was set to leave, and she still couldn't bring herself to accept it. She had heard her father wanted everyone, both the family and all the downstairs staff, to send Branson off. Her father had been to war and knew what Branson, along with Thomas and William, had signed up for, and he knew the dangers as well. It wasn't a comforting thought. Sybil wasn't particularly happy at this arrangement as she wanted to say goodbye to him personally, though she supposed she could still do that. As she would be unlikely to run into him before he left, she decided to slip out and find him. She supposed he would most likely be in his cottage, but decided to pass through the kitchens on her way in case he happened to be there instead.

Branson wasn't too fond of everyone sending him off. He'd prefer it if he could say goodbye to everyone separately, but he could not say no after Lord Grantham had informed him what he had planned. He supposed he would do both; say goodbye to everyone separately, then have the whole unnecessary procession. Thomas had received the same treatment, though Branson hoped people would be slightly less glad to see him go than they were the footman, and William was remaining at Downton a week more before he left.

Branson had been worrying about leaving all morning. Not because he was concerned about what lay in store for him at war, though that would probably come to him later, but rather how he was going to say goodbye to Sybil. He doubted they would get a chance to talk alone, so he considered writing a letter to give to her before he left. He was pulled out of his reverie by a knock on the door, and upon opening it his worries disappeared as he was confronted with Sybil on his doorstep.

"Lady Sybil" he stated, pleasantly surprised by her appearance.

"Please Tom, you know me well enough, and you won't be working for Papa soon, just Sybil will do" she replied with a smile.

He couldn't help but notice her use of his first name again and it sent his mind racing at what it _meant_. He noticed she seemed unsure of herself, and gestured for her to come inside.

"I- I came to say goodbye" she began, whilst heading further into the cottage, "I hope that's alright, I-"

"Of course it is", Branson interjected, watching as she removed her hat and placed it on the side table. There was a slight pause, so Branson continued, "So are you still knitting for the war effort?" he asked light-heartedly.

"Oh, yes, Mama is getting quite into it, though I must admit I'm quite dreadful at it"

Branson couldn't help but give a short laugh, "Well I hope some get sent my way".

This seemed to bring Sybil back down to earth and she realised why she was there. Not for a light-hearted conversation, but to tell him how she felt.

Unbeknownst to her, Branson wanted to do the same thing.

"You'll write to me, won't you?" Sybil asked.

Branson was surprised, "If you'd like me to"

"Yes, I would", she said, giving him a warm smile that made his stomach flip, a smile that no one could possibly refuse.

"Then of course I will" he replied, overjoyed at her request. Her presence made him think about the two of them. He knew how he felt; she was the one person he looked forward to going to work for, the one who he loved talking politics with, and teaching her a thing or two at the same time. She treated him like an equal, rather than a servant, and he knew he would genuinely miss seeing her when he left. But how she felt towards him was entirely unknown to him. Was it possible she felt the same way?

She was a mere step from him, but in reality she was a world away.

He knew full well he'd set his sights too high when it came to Sybil, but despite this he still found himself reaching for her. His head and his heart were engaged in a constant battle; his head kept telling him to give up, that she was too good for him and nothing could ever happen, yet his heart urged him on, telling him there wasn't much time and he should take the chance.

"I wish you didn't have to go" she said softly.

Her words made his decision for him. He chose his heart.

Before he let himself think about the consequences of his actions, how she would react or what would happen to either of them if someone found out, he brought his lips down to hers. It was his last chance to show her how he felt. He may never come back and she needed to know how much she meant to him, even if nothing could ever come of it. He knew it was improper, against the rules of society, but in that moment he didn't care. His heart soared when she didn't resist, her hands reaching up to his neck to pull him closer.

Sybil was just about to tell him everything, she wasn't sure how she was going to put it, but she was going to say something, anything. And then he kissed her. She was surprised at first, but soon gave in. She realised it was the perfect way to tell him how she felt, and now she knew he felt the same as well. She put everything she couldn't put into words into that one kiss. At least now things were out in the open between them. It wasn't like anything else had changed, they still wouldn't be allowed to be together, but right then, in that moment, anything seemed possible.

In that moment their class differences were forgotten.

It was then, and only then, that Sybil finally accepted the fact that he was leaving and that they may never see each other again.

He broke away and looked into her eyes. A small tear left a trail down her left cheek and he wiped it away. Matching his gaze with her own, she reached out her hands to his.

"Promise me you'll come back" she pleaded, "for me".

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded.

"I promise"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

You guys are awesome & thanks for the alerts/reviews etc. :D

This chapter's for BeckyPearce to thank you for your amazingly enthusiastic review which made me smileee :D

Onto Chapter 5! Kind of a filler chapter if you will, but sets up the story for laterrr :)

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After Branson's departure, Sybil's mood lowered considerably. She appeared to have altered so much that even Mary was asking her if everything was alright. She threw herself into any jobs she could come up with, just to keep her mind busy. As the months dragged on it became more and more unbearable. She constantly kept up with the news to see how the war was progressing, and watched as others she knew signed up to the army and left as well; William had gone, and she'd heard from her sister that Cousin Matthew was planning on enlisting soon too.

The worst part was that there was no one she could talk openly to about what was wrong. If she did they'd find out about her and Branson and, at worst, her father could find out and stop her contacting him. Of course, she'd find a way around that if it happened, but it would make everything ten times worse. And she absolutely _hated_ being on bad terms with her father, she'd found that out the hard way. She could tell her father still remembered when Branson had taken her to the count in Ripon where she was hurt, and consequently continued to hold it against him to however small a degree.

Sybil guessed her father's supposed 'grudge' was also because he had figured out it was the 'Irish radical' who was responsible for his daughter's growing political fervour. She smiled to herself at the last thought; yes, he'd without doubt influenced her and she wouldn't have it any other way. She had to admit her life had become much more exciting after he had arrived, and now he was gone- she paused mid-thought; not _gone_, just _away_- now he way _away_,she'd have to sustain her political interests without him.

They had been writing to each other constantly ever since he left. So far, at her request, he had informed her all about his training; the inspections, the other soldiers that had volunteered in his regiment, the weapons training, and anything else she could think of to ask. There was little of interest with which she could reply about Downton as it was pretty quiet these days, so she consequently looked forward to every letter he sent.

On the announcement of the post Sybil immediately raced towards the front door, like every time it was delivered these days, and checked to see if there was anything from Branson. This was because, for one, she wanted to see how he was getting on, and to make sure he was alright, and second she couldn't let her father know she was writing to a servant, a male servant of her own age nonetheless, and so had to get there before he did. Luckily she'd placed herself conveniently close to the door and so was able to check before anyone noticed. Her spirits rose immediately when she discovered one addressed to her and she raced up to her room to read it.

It was his latest letter that would change everything;

_Dear Sybil,_

_Hope you are well and everything is as it always is back at Downton. I'm afraid this is the last letter you may receive for some time. As you know from my previous letters, training has been tough, but it's finally coming to an end. Though I'm not sure whether that's a good or bad thing. I wanted to let you know that we've been told our division is being sent to France soon, and so I will be fighting with the soldiers on the front lines. To tell you the truth, - _

Sybil could tell he was about to go on about the war and what he really thought, but a large section of the letter had been blacked out. She sighed, this had happened before, and she had guessed that the government did not want the public receiving the letters to see the real side of war, the side that would make them think twice when told it would be over by Christmas. It was that, or they thought that she was a potential spy for the enemy. The last thought made her laugh; Sybil Crawley, a spy? Either way, this angered her more than anything; she wanted to know the truth. She quickly skipped over the blackened paragraph to the last two lines which brought a smile to her face in a way that only Branson seemed to be able to do these days, despite the fact he wasn't even there;

_The last thing I want you to do is worry about me, but you'll probably do it anyway, so I'll just say that I'll be careful. _

_I made a promise, and I intend to keep it._

_Yours,_

_Tom_

She reread it. And then reread it again. So the moment she had been dreading had finally arrived; he was being sent to the front. As she kept up with the news she had heard the stories and reports of the thousands of men who had been killed in action in the early battles of the war, and she prayed that Branson would not become one of that ever growing number of casualties.

Just the thought of him going there filled her with fear, so she tried to push it out of her mind. It was a lot harder than she thought it would be. Sybil grew frustrated. She just wanted to _do _something, anything. If she was allowed she would, like Branson, have signed up to the army immediately. But, being a woman, she could do no such thing.

If she couldn't follow him into battle on the front, she'd have to find her own way to get there.

It was that moment in which an idea hit her. If she wanted to make a difference and help, here was her chance. It allowed her to become more independent, aid the war effort, and perhaps be closer to Branson, which would greatly ease her worries.

She would train to become a nurse.

She wasn't naïve enough to think that by becoming one she would immediately be taken to France, and therefore to Branson. But she knew this was what she should do, both for herself and her country; she would work hard to become an accomplished nurse and then ask about being sent overseas, where she could do more, and know she was closer to him.

Sybil glanced back down at the letter in her hand; Branson would have supported her decision if he were there, would it be too much to hope her family would do the same?


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Special thanks to **fancy-a-biscuit** & **MontyPythonFan**, aka Jess, for keeping with the story & reviewing!

Also, I decided it would be better if I added general dates and so will start putting them in & if any facts are wrong at any time, just roll with ittt … unless they are ridiculously bad mistakes, then feel free to tell me :)

Enjoyyy & REVIEW :D

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**November 1914**

It wasn't like Branson agreed with the war, but he had felt like it was his duty to go.

He'd arrived at the camp a couple of months ago, and immediately fallen into the routine. He supposed he was used to running to a schedule, and taking orders was easy enough for him from working as a chauffeur for Lords and Ladies for years. He had to admit he was glad not to be doing that anymore, he hadn't planned on being a chauffeur all his life, but joining the army and going to war wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind either.

He had considered going back to Ireland and joining a division there, but figured everyone was fighting the same war so he might as well stay closer to home, until he was sent overseas that is. It also allowed him to be closer to Sybil, and because of this they had managed to exchange regular letters for the past two months.

The sending off hadn't been so bad. He disliked how the whole household's attention was focused on him, but managed to get through it with Sybil's help, albeit from a distance. She had been a comforting presence as everyone wished him well and told him how they looked forward to him coming back, hopefully soon. He was surprised more than anything when he got to Sybil and she immediately hugged him in front of everyone. Neither said a word, everything had been said at his cottage an hour before, but it still spoke volumes. Branson couldn't help but cast a quick glance around as they pulled apart, his eyes landing on Lord Grantham, but he, nor anyone else, seemed to notice anything amiss. He supposed he was getting paranoid.

Upon arriving at the training camp things seemed to pass in a blur. He kept his head down and just got on with it. During his time there he'd become good friends with the others in his regiment, though Branson couldn't help constantly wondering how many of them would make it back alive. He wouldn't say anything out loud, but he figured not many.

By mid-November he could tell training was coming to an end, and so it didn't come as a shock when the news came that the division would be sent down to London, and then on to France. Apparently the British Expeditionary Force were in desperate need of reserves, which he had to admit didn't fill him with too much confidence.

He was thankful that Sybil's letter and, to his surprise, parcel, came the day before they were all scheduled to leave. He let out a laugh as he opened the package; it contained two pairs of socks, along with a short note. He read it with a grin;

_I told you I was quite dreadful!_

_Sybil x_

He then turned his attention to the letter that accompanied it, her familiar, elegant handwriting greeted him and he began to read.

_Dearest Tom,_

_I hope you like the socks I made for you; think of them as an early Christmas present, though I don't know how useful they'll be! _

_Your last letter made me think of a few things. I don't feel I'm doing anything just sitting around at Downton all day while everyone is risking their lives in the war. So I've decided to train as a nurse. And before you even think it, no, Papa doesn't know yet. Though I hope he'll be supportive, I'll let you know how it goes. _

_I haven't told anyone yet, apart from Mrs Crawley. I went to talk to her about it today; you remember she trained as a nurse during the war? She was most helpful. She said I'm doing a great thing and it will benefit a lot of people. She also said I should come down to the hospital with her whenever I can and she can give me a bit of training before I go. I think it's a wonderful idea and I'm going to start straight away. _

_Instead of staying closer to home, I've decided to go down to London next month to join the Voluntary Aid Detachment, and I'll stay with my Aunt who's always told me I can come down any time. She needs people to fill up that house of hers!  
_

_There's also talk that Papa may be called out of retirement to help train the volunteers in the camps as they're running low on capable officers. I don't know what he's decided, but I think Mama thinks it's best if he goes, it's not too far away, and she says she can run the estate well enough when he's gone. _

_I hope this letter reaches you in time and that you are well. I wish you luck and know that I'll always be thinking of you._

_Yours,_

_Sybil x_

Branson sighed when he finished the letter, he should have known she would do something like this. He fully supported her decision, he even admired her for it, but he couldn't help but worry about her. She would be so far away from home. Though he supposed she had no trouble making friends; her optimistic and outgoing nature meant it was impossible not to like her, he knew that from firsthand experience. He knew he shouldn't really worry; it was just that he hoped the war and seeing all the wounded soldiers would not change her.

The next morning he was all packed up and ready to leave. This was it. All the hours of training and shooting and he was finally heading to the front line.

He hoped he could keep his promise to Sybil, but couldn't refrain from wondering whether he was a fool for making it in the first place.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE EVE EVERYONE! Hope you all have a great one :D

Here is my present to you awesome readers …

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**December 1914**

"A _nurse_?"

"For the last time, yes!"

Sybil was with Mary and Anna in her room as the latter helped her dress for dinner. Mary had accidently found out her intentions from Cousin Isobel and had come immediately to question her about it. Sybil had only recently told Anna; she trusted her and knew she would keep it a secret until she was ready to tell the rest of her family.

"You know Papa won't be happy about this" Mary stated, shaking her head at her youngest sister from her position sat on the bed.

Sybil rolled her eyes, "Which is exactly _why_ I haven't told him, you know as well as I do that he probably wouldn't let me go, and I am determined to."

"But you _will _tell him, right?" Mary asked.

Sybil exhaled and headed over to look out the window; tiny flakes of snow continued to fall, as they had been doing for the past week, coating the lawn in a white blanket. Her sister was right, she had to tell him. It was just that she had no idea how he would react; would he forbid it and she'd have to defy him to continue with her plans? That would effectively ruin their relationship, and that was the last thing she wanted. Or would he surprise her by accepting her wishes? She guessed she was just expecting the worst so that she wouldn't be disappointed. And what about her mother? The rest of her family? She hadn't even given a thought as to their reactions. She was so confused. All these thoughts swirling around in her mind made her feel lightheaded.

When Sybil didn't respond, Mary continued, incredulous; "So you're not going to tell him at all? You're just going to disappear?"

Sybil, pulled out of her reverie, turned back to face her sister, needing to explain; "No- No, of course not", she began, continuing when a flash of inspiration hit her; "I'm merely going to wait until the last possible minute so that he can't stop me" she finished with raised eyebrows and a smirk, clearly proud of her ingenuity.

Now it was Mary's turn to roll her eyes. "That's a terrible idea, he'd be furious!" she declared, then paused, looking over towards her maid, "Anna, could you excuse us a moment please?"

"Of course Lady Mary", Anna nodded and laid one of Sybil's dresses neatly on the bed before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Mary watched her leave whilst Sybil glanced at her sister with a look of confusion etched on her face. Mary paused and took a deep breath before asking;

"Does your leaving have something to do with Branson?"

Sybil froze, eyes wide, and attempted to calm her suddenly racing heart, _how did she know?_

She decided to opt for plausible deniability, she'd always, well _usually_, gotten away with a white lie or two. She was the youngest in the family, not much attention was paid to her; that was reserved for Mary. Sybil could do what she wanted, when she wanted, and that suited her just fine. But why did her sister decide to pay attention to her at the worst possible time?

She swiftly turned and picked up the dress Anna had laid on the bed, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about" she began, "I am going because I want to help and make a difference"; this was true, but Mary didn't need to know about her other, ulterior motive. It would undoubtedly cause too many problems.

Silence followed so she glanced back and, when she was met with an unimpressed look from Mary, Sybil grew frustrated, "Well at least _I'm _trying to make a difference" she snapped, turning her back on her sister again.

"Stop trying to change the subject" Mary began, "Was there something going on between you and Branson before he left?"

Sybil's heart was racing even faster now, she was sure no one could possibly suspect anything.

Unbeknownst to Sybil, Mary had suspected for a while. At first she thought it was just one-sided on Branson's part after his concern as to know how Sybil was after the incident during the count in Ripon those months ago, but lately things had changed. It had only taken her seeing Sybil go to Branson's cottage just before he was set to leave, and their later embrace, to confirm that the feeling was reciprocated. Mary was also pretty certain that they were writing to each other. But it was only now that Sybil was leaving to become a nurse that Mary felt the need to say something, to get some answers.

"Mary nothing-" Sybil began, trying one last time to throw her sister off-track, but she knew Mary well enough to realise when she'd been beaten by her.

"I'm not blind Sybil" Mary began, softly, "the long looks, the constant trips into town, how you were when he left. You know I'm surprised the whole household hasn't started gossiping!"

Sybil was now bordering on frantic, "Please, don't tell-"

"Look" Mary started, stopping Sybil before she said anything else, "You're my sister, and I know I don't say it often but I love you, so I won't say anything."

Sybil let out a breath she didn't even realise she had been holding and crossed the room to take a seat on her bed beside her sister. "Oh Mary, you don't know what it's been like, not being able to talk to anyone!"

"I know" Mary replied, sympathetic. She placed her hands in her sisters, "but you know as well as I do that nothing can ever come of it."

Sybil immediately caught Mary's gaze and shook her head, "But things are changing-"

"Sybil. I'm serious. Just ... be careful, okay? I don't want you getting hurt", Sybil was taken aback, she couldn't recall the last time she'd heard her sister sound so ... sincere. "And I won't tell Papa about you leaving either" Mary continued, "you can do that yourself, and it _will _be soon."

Sybil nodded her assent, she absolutely _hated_ when her sister was right.

Mary decided to get back to the original topic at hand and continued, "You do know it's dangerous over there, you've read the papers. I don't think Papa will consent to you putting yourself in harm's way like that."

Sybil sighed, "I don't care what Papa says, and anyway I'm not going _over there_", _not yet anyway_, she silently added. "The government is only sending trained nurses to France at the moment, though if it gets any worse I think they'll take who they can get. And when they do, I'll be there" she finished with a determined look at her sister, whose response was just a mortified stare.

"Sybil, you can't be serious-"

"I am" she cut in, "I'm heading to London for training after Christmas, and I expect your support."

Mary, clearly defeated, sighed and Sybil grinned in triumph. "So when will you tell Papa?"

Sybil seemed to hesitate, "I'll do it tonight, after dinner ... Oh Mary, will you be there when I do? Please?"

Mary squeezed her sister's hands in reassurance and gave her a smile, "Of course I will, though there's no backing out now you know."

Sybil beamed at her, "Wouldn't dream of it."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Hope you all had a great Christmas! :D

& thanks again for the reviews :)

xxxxxxxxxxxx

**December 1914**

"Absolutely NOT!" Lord Grantham bellowed when Sybil announced her intentions.

After dinner, when the family were all gathered in the drawing room, Sybil had announced to everyone that she had some important news. She'd paused, unsure how to begin, but with a reassuring smile from Mary she'd just come out and told them she was going to be a nurse. She had directed it towards her father, and to say he initially took it badly was an understatement. But, she was determined to make him see her side and change his mind, so she had no intentions of backing down.

"But Papa-"

"No Sybil! You are my daughter and will do as I say!"

Sybil shook her head in disappointment at the father, "I knew you wouldn't understand."

She glanced over to the rest of her family; her mother looked sympathetic, Edith just looked shocked, and her eyes finally landed on Mary, sending her a silent plea for some form of support in the matter. At least Granny wasn't there, she mused, or it could have been even worse.

Sybil was relieved when Mary spoke; "Papa, don't dismiss this, just hear her out. Sybil knows what she's doing."

"Nonsense", he dismissed his eldest with a wave of his hand and Sybil realised that if Mary's voice didn't influence him, it would be ten times harder for hers to. As Mary gave her an apologetic look, Sybil silently thanked her for trying and realised she was on her own.

Knowing she would have to do it herself, she took a step closer to her father. "Look, Papa. This isn't just something I've decided to do on the spot, I've thought long and hard about it and realised it's what I want, no _need_, to do. There are people that need help, and I want to do what I can for them, it's much better than staying here doing nothing all hours of the day being no help whatsoever."

Her father just sighed and shook his head like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sybil took this as a sign she was getting somewhere, at least he wasn't flatly refusing her like he had been a few minutes ago, so she continued.

"I'm going down to London after Christmas-"

"London!" Lord Grantham shouted, making everyone in the room jump, "Well this just gets better!"

Sybil opened her mouth to protest, but a swift look and hand gesture from her mother silenced her. Cora had remained silent so far; she wasn't as surprised as her husband. Her youngest daughter had clearly been up to something recently, and it was only now that she finally realised what that something was.

"Sybil, girls, can you step outside a moment please?" Cora requested, looking at her three daughters.

Sybil wasn't happy at this request; she wanted to be there to explain it to her father, to make him understand. But she yielded after taking in her mother's reassuring nod and left the room with Mary and Edith, attempting to show her father what she thought of his reaction by her glower in his direction and determined march out the door.

She was left standing in the corridor with her two sisters. One, she knew, would be supportive. The other; by the look on her face, she wasn't impressed. They remained silent for a few moments before Sybil couldn't take it anymore, "What is it Edith?" she demanded, none too kindly. Her father's negative reaction had frustrated and annoyed her, and now she was taking it out on Edith. Although, to be fair, the look on Edith's face wasn't one of understanding and support, and Sybil was certainly not in the best of moods.

Edith just shook her head, "I just don't know about this Sybil" she stated, reserved, "I mean, it's hardly a job for a Lady is it?"

That seemed to be the last straw for Sybil, she was fed up with people not agreeing with her decision and, unfortunately for Edith, her sister was the one to bear the brunt of her anger. "Edith, it's not an issue of class anymore" Sybil fired back, "a war is happening _right now_, and it will affect us _Ladies _as much as any other woman, and any other person, for that matter! If you'd just come out of your selfish bubble for one second then you'd see that!"

Edith seemed speechless; she'd usually gotten on relatively well with Sybil, as the youngest seemed to get on with everyone. What she'd just come out with sounded more like it would come from Mary. Edith had only ever seen her so fired up once before; when her father had been ready to fire their chauffeur, Branson.

Mary looked equally shocked at her outburst, but Sybil refused to apologise for it. It was the truth, and it was about time she expressed what she felt. She was so used to being reserved and keeping back what she really felt, it was a kind of release to be able to speak her mind for once.

Edith wouldn't let it pass, "Sybil" she began, "It's just that-"

"Edith" Sybil cut in, with as polite a tone as she could muster, "I'm going, there's nothing more to discuss."

When Edith still didn't look convinced, Sybil rolled her eyes and looked over to Mary, "Will you tell her?"

Mary couldn't help but look exasperated, although she was secretly pleased at her youngest sister's tirade towards Edith; "I think you've just about covered it."

Not wanting to discuss the issue anymore, Sybil couldn't help but head over to the closed door she had recently exited and put her ear to it, managing to catch the end of her parents' conversation;

"Robert" Cora stated, "You know Sybil, she's stubborn. She gets that from you" she added. "Even if you lock her in her room she'd find a way to get out. Wouldn't it be best if you just let her go-"

"But she's not ready. War...it's not the place for a young girl."

"She's determined Robert. And it's not like she'll be on the Front Line, for one she's too young."

"But London, Cora, why not nearer to home? With her family-"

"She'll be able to stay with your sister in London."

"Rosamund? I don't know."

"I can't say I'm too thrilled about this decision of hers either. She's our youngest, and it's hard to let go, but you know as well as I do she won't back down. Wouldn't it be better for the both of you if she left on good terms? Think about it."

After a few moments thought, Lord Grantham sighed, "You're right, you're right."

Sybil couldn't help but grin and quickly moved away from the door, back towards her sisters who were both looking at her, clearly unimpressed by her eavesdropping. They thankfully refrained from saying anything as her father opened the door, closely followed by her mother. Sybil immediately headed over to them, giving her mother a warm smile before finding herself stood in front of her father.

"Papa?" she prompted.

He seemed reluctant and looked at his youngest, responding with an audible sigh; "I may not like it, and I certainly don't agree with you going, but if you insist then I won't stop you."

It wasn't exactly what she had been hoping for, but it was enough. It was certainly much better than she expected she would get an hour ago. She remained composed despite the overwhelming joy bubbling up inside her at her father's acceptance, and smiled, walking over to embrace him, "Thank you Papa" she whispered, "I'll make you proud."

Grantham smiled despite himself and held her close, "I know you will Sybil."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

HAPPY NEW YEAR :D

Sorry this chapter's taken a little longer to get up, been a bit busy over the Christmas holidays, but it's slightly longer than usual!

Apologies in advance if any factual stuff is wrong, though I've tried to make it accurate :)

Now time to see what Branson's been up to …

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**March 1915**

It was cold. Actually, freezing was probably a more appropriate term.

Branson was huddled in a trench around the region of Artois, northern France, where he had been stationed with his regiment to increase the numbers on the line. He had been there just over a month so far, prior to that he had been in London, and then later sent to an army station in central France for a while when they decided where to assign him.

If he never saw another trench or sandbag again, he'd be eternally grateful. He was pretty sure he'd rather be back in England, driving the aristocracy around for the rest of his life, rather than be there for who knew how much longer. His mind drifted back to how he'd ended up sat in a freezing trench in a foreign country.

The division had caught a train and travelled down to London. He'd had a pleasant surprise there when he'd run into William, who'd arrived with his regiment just days after Branson had. He'd accidently let slip he'd been corresponding with Sybil, but William didn't seem shocked, to Branson's relief, and so he ended up going on to tell him all about how she was training to be a nurse. William seemed pleasantly surprised and told him to wish her luck in his next letter. When he'd gotten to Artois he found that William wasn't stationed too far away from him, so they continued to see each other now and again.

When he'd arrived at the line it was nothing like he had expected. In fact, it was eerily quiet, nothing like the constant barrage of gunfire and noise he'd expected, although that had happened more often than not during the weeks he had been there. The funny thing was that the worst thing wasn't the enemy, which he knew were just a stone's throw away over no man's land, but rather the weather. It was always either too cold, or wet enough to flood the trenches with a good few centimetres of water, which soaked through your boots so much so that they were near impossible to dry. The food wasn't much better; he was just glad he hadn't been there as long as some of the other men he had talked to, though he guessed he'd find out just how they felt soon enough.

Branson luckily hadn't had to venture much out of the trenches since he'd arrived, although it didn't stop him constantly wondering if every day would be his last with the constant threat of bombardment looming over everyone all hours of the day. Soon though, like everyone else, he just learnt to deal with it. He got into the routine, but it wasn't long before he heard rumours that there was an operation approaching; one where they'd most likely have to march straight across enemy lines and engage them head on.

To keep his mind occupied and away from this reality, he read, and then reread, his intermittent letters from Sybil. They seemed to keep him grounded, remind him what he had to go back to if- _when_, he corrected himself- _when _he got out of there. He'd received her last letter the previous day, their correspondence hadn't been nearly as fast as he would have liked to be, but as he was so far away he had to deal with it. It was a pretty long letter and she'd told him all about how her family had reacted when she'd told them she was to become a nurse. He wasn't completely surprised by Lord Grantham's reaction; of course he'd want to shield his youngest daughter from the horrors of war, but he was glad she'd had the support of Mary and her mother in the matter. It eased his conscience somewhat to know that her family were behind her and they'd left on good terms.

Everyone who was stationed on the front line of trenches was kept busy, so Branson didn't have time to write back until a few days later when he was rotated and put on the second support line. This would be followed by the third reserve trenches, and then base camp for a while, before being sent back to the front again. This was a regular pattern for everyone, and gave the soldiers a period of respite, and also a chance for him to write his reply.

He had a pencil and paper and was currently attempting to write a letter back to her, though so far he'd only managed two words; _Dear Sybil_, so it was fair to say it wasn't going too well. The problem he had was how much to tell her. He wanted to be honest, but conditions were so bad and the things he'd seen so horrible he couldn't even put it into words. Plus, the authorities would likely censor most of it out anyway, they wouldn't want anyone to know what was _really _happened over here now would they?

So he began by letting her how he was fine and there was no need to worry, which seemed to be a recurring thing in his letters recently. Sybil did worry too much. The last thought made him smile and he continued the letter by keeping it focused on her; how she was, how the training was going, if she'd treated anyone yet. He also added that he'd talked to William and he had wished her luck; Branson figured she'd be glad to hear he was doing well. He sighed when he finished. He had to admit he _hated _writing the letters, as every time he did he was just reminded that he was so far away from her and couldn't just _talk_ to her. He missed her smile and her laugh, and the way her brow furrowed when she was debating a certain political issue she was passionate about. You didn't get to see any of that in a letter. He was pulled out of his reverie when someone called his name.

"Hey, Tom!"

His head snapped up and his gaze landed on the soldier who had addressed him; the man was well built with dark, closely cropped hair, his gun slung over his shoulder, looking over at Branson with a grin plastered on his face like he was in on some private joke you weren't privy to.

"What is it Joe?" Branson called back over. He'd known Joe Murphy since training, they'd become friends since their first conversation when they'd discovered they were both Irish and had grown up in towns mere miles apart in Ireland before moving to England.

"You're writing to her aren't ya? You ever gonna let us know who this secret Lady is?"

Branson laughed and stood up, folding the finished letter and putting it into his pocket to send off later. It was a recurring topic of conversation who Branson was writing to, as he refused to tell the other men anything. They even had a pool going as to what her name was, though he was pretty sure none of them had picked the right one yet. "Never you mind. You here for something Murphy?"

Joe's face turned solemn as he headed over to Branson, "We gotta head over to base camp."

Branson picked up his gun and walked up alongside him. "The briefing we've all been waiting for?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"The one and only" Joe replied, "It's about time we get to try and dodge some bullets, I was getting bored in my nice safe trench" he finished, sarcasm lacing his words.

Branson gave short laugh in reply as they, along with a crowd of others, gathered together and were given the briefing. It turned out that the British Army were planning an offensive in Artois. Branson's division would be involved in the attack on a place he'd never heard of before called Neuve Chapelle, where their aim was to capture village itself, and then attempt to disrupt the enemies' communication lines. During the briefing Branson took in every bit of information; he wanted to know fully what he was going into, though he felt the officer was missing out certain details; just telling them all the bare facts of what they needed to know to get the job done.

The day of the advance arrived soon enough. Branson had sent off his letter to Sybil the day before, hoping it wouldn't be his last. There was a deafening silence as the men were lined up in the trenches, waiting for the whistle that would tell them it was time to go over the top. Branson's heart was hammering in his chest waiting for the whir of bullets that would inevitably accompany an advance.

When the whistle sounded everything seemed to go in slow motion. Everyone around him began climbing the small ladders to leave the trenches. Branson closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his weapon, and climbed up and out into the unknown.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Sorry for the wait, start of new term at uni which means essays and exams and other boringness like that, but I haven't forgotten about this :) Again, tried to be as accurate as I could, but I want to move the story along & the list mentioned in this chapter actually wasn't introduced until 1917, but what the hell, this is fanfiction and I can do what I want! :D

So R&R and I hope you enjoyyy …

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"_This conflict is one thing I've been waiting for. I'm well and strong and young - young enough to go to the front. If I can't be a soldier, I'll help soldiers."  
- Clara Barton (American Civil War Nurse, Founder of the American National Red Cross, 1821-1912)_

**March 1915**

Sybil had been to London many times before of course, but this time it felt different. It _was_ different. There was no time for social visits or dinners with acquaintances; her time had to be spent training, and when she wasn't training, she was reading up on it. She was determined to complete it and make her father, her family, and of course Tom, proud of her.

She'd had a clear idea of what the training would entail thanks to Isobel Crawley, whom she'd asked countless questions, and made her demonstrate countless procedures, before travelling down to London. She soon found that she had a certain advantage amongst some of the other new recruits due to these few months of experience. Mrs Crawley, she had discovered, was extremely knowledgeable about a nurse's duty, and her training had given Sybil valuable experience, allowing her to pass the first aid and home nursing examinations, that everyone was required to take successfully before they could proceed, with flying colours.

Sybil was accepted at St. Thomas's Hospital in London where she would both live and work with her fellow nurses. Initially she had supposed that she would have to live with her aunt Rosamond, whom she had stayed with for a few weeks prior to her arrival; yet soon found that she was required to stay in a separate part of the hospital during her training. This suited her just fine; she may have been used to the high standard of living which came with being a Lady but, unlike her other sister's she mused, Sybil could live without those luxuries.

She had managed to persuade everyone that she was twenty-two years of age, soon to be twenty three. She knew she didn't particularly look it, but she wasn't questioned about it to her immense relief. Sybil had heard that the government had decided VAD's could be sent overseas to help with the ever-increasing number of wounded soldiers on the front lines. However, she had been initially disappointed, and even slightly anxious, that she would not be able to go because the conditions were that the nurse must be at least twenty-three years of age and have three months or more experience.

She hadn't told anyone, least of all her family back home, what she had done. If that got out she suspected her father would march down to London himself and drag her back to Downton before he let her go to France. Her becoming a nurse and remaining in England, Sybil supposed, he could just about handle, but on her own overseas when there was a war going on? She doubted it.

All romantic notions that Sybil may have had before arriving were dashed within days of arriving there. Even the hospital itself was foreign to her. The one at home was so much smaller and more homely, yet here there were huge corridors with countless beds in one hall, rather than divided into separate rooms. Treating the wounded was a daunting prospect, but a challenge she readily embraced. Initially, it was much less hectic than she had been expecting. She supposed that was due to the fact they were in England, and so they only received those who were stable enough to be sent back home to recover from their injuries.

Despite her competence when it came to injuries, she still felt like a fish out of water when it came to the more menial tasks. Of course, having been brought up a Lady, with all manner of servants to attend upon her, she'd never really done any manual household work. So, when she was required to do things such as stoke the fires she was lost, much to her annoyance. Sybil was, of course, more than willing to learn, but couldn't help but feel slightly foolish when she had to ask for help in how to make a cup of tea.

Another thing she had to deal with was the uniform. She was expected to wear the standard ankle length blue skirt covered by a long white apron when working, along with a belt in which she could hold various implements such as scissors and bandages. Sybil was so used to fine dresses that were fitted to her figure that she initially couldn't stand the stiff collars that accompanied the uniforms. Yet, soon the intense work seemed to push any thoughts to her own comfort from her mind.

Sybil soon fell into the routine, and when she was told how to perform a task once, she didn't need to be reminded. She, of course, made awful mistakes at first but she always learned from them. The days and weeks seemed to fly by and Branson soon became her driving force. When she was on the verge of giving up, all she had to do was glance at one of the soldiers lying injured in the ward; every time she did she couldn't help but wonder what she would do if it was Tom lying there.

She continued to exchange regular letters with Branson, yet ever since she'd read about an offensive his division was involved in she had been waiting anxiously for another to make sure that he was alright and nothing had happened to him. She'd also kept up with the news about any scrap of information she could get from the region of Artois and the death lists that were constantly posted. Sometimes she couldn't even look at the lists, just in case his name appeared on there. Every day in between their letters her worry increased, until it finally arrived, and then the cycle started all over again.

Sybil arrived in the nurse's living area of the hospital after the end of her shift and practically collapsed on to her bed she was so exhausted. She looked up quickly when she heard the shuffle of feet and was met with a friend of hers who was also being trained.

"What is it Sophie?" she questioned, a feeling of worry creeping over her as she took in her friend's concerned features.

Sophie seemed to hesitate for a second, "The man, the one you write to, he's called Tom Branson isn't he?"

Sybil sat up straight on the bed, alarm bells seemed to go off in her mind; "Yes, why?" she questioned, her voice growing firmer as her concern increased, "What's going on?"

"It's just … well", the young girl was unsure how to phrase her next words, "I got the _War Office Weekly Casualty List_, you know, to look out for James, and his name-"

"-No" Sybil cut her off harshly, bolting up from the bed and making her jump slightly. Her mind had suddenly gone into overdrive, whirling through all the possibilities in a split second. "He's not- _no_."

"Wait, it's not-" Sophie began, but Sybil had already pushed past her, her mind blanking out the rest of her friend's sentence, and ran through to the kitchen area. He heart hammering wildly in her chest she picked up the list, eyes frantically searching for his name. She managed to locate it, and his number and hometown alongside it just proved it was him. A feeling of dread formed in the pit of her stomach until her eyes fixed on one word next to it; _wounded._

Sybil almost sobbed with relief; _he wasn't dead_.

That was the moment Sophie came racing in behind her and, realising she'd read it, placed a comforting arm on her back, "If you'd have just let me finish" she began, and then sighed as she took in Sybil's dishevelled appearance, "I'm sure he's fine" she reassured, "at least it's not the alternative."

All the emotion and fear Sybil had concealed for months about his wellbeing seemed to pour out of her, "I know" she began, wiping the tears from her eyes, "It's just I don't know what I'd have done if-"

"Just don't think about it" Sophie reasoned.

"But that's just it, I can't _not _think about it- it's always there in the back of my mind, _always_."

Sybil was worried about how bad his injuries were; Would he be alright? Would he be coming back to England? Would he soon be sent back to the line again?

Then her mind fixed on the glimmer of hope; the fact that he was still _alive_, still breathing, still the Tom she'd fallen in love with. The last thought seemed to surprise her, but it was true. She loved him and wanted to be in France, fighting in her own way alongside him. If he had to do his duty and be in the firing line, she would do her duty and help those that were caught up in it.

This only served to harden Sybil's resolve; she was going to France one way or another.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Thanks for the reviews & everyone who's sticking with this story, despite the time between chapters :)

& the reunion's coming soonish, don't worry, it'll happen :D

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"_War does not determine who is right - only who is left."_

_-Bertrand Russell_

**March 1915**

_As soon as he left the trench and was fully exposed, the adrenaline began to kick in. It felt like his legs were moving of their own accord, propelling him forward amidst the shower of bullets whirring past him in every direction. His heart pounding in his chest, he risked a glance to the left to see men, people he knew, falling to the ground around him; injured or dead, he had no idea, but he couldn't stop to check, he had to keep moving. _

_All his training, everything he had learnt since signing up and the experience he'd gained being on the front lines for weeks on end, made him focus. They had an objective, and he had to reach it. He couldn't think about how close he was to dying every second he was exposed out in the open, otherwise he'd probably just run in the opposite direction. Or go mad. Or both. That was the thing about battle; you could do endless drills and be told countless times about it, but nothing could prepare you for the reality, and it was impossible to know how you would react to it._

_Every now and then he'd slow down, aim his gun and fire into the direction of the enemy. He had no idea if he'd found a target, and in all honesty he didn't want to know. Yet, as they advanced, this became unavoidable._

_A soldier, an enemy, emerged from the ranks and advanced in his direction. It took less than a second for him to aim his gun towards Branson, ready to shoot. The next few moments would be etched in Tom's mind for as long as he lived. _

_Branson, immediately seeing him, raised his own gun and fired._

_The man fell to the ground, his shouts drowned out by the continuous gunfire around them. All Branson could do was stare, the mere second feeling like hours in his mind. The man was probably just like him; maybe he had a family, a wife, children, and he'd just taken him away from them. Branson may have killed people since arriving on the line, but none so close that he could see their last moments and know he was the cause. Right at that moment, in Branson's mind, standing in the middle of a muddy field of death and destruction trying to kill the enemy didn't seem as noble or heroic as they had been constantly told. All this flicked through his mind in an instant until a shell blast hurled him back to reality._

_The division initially made rapid progress, managing to break though a section of the German line. As they came closer and closer to the village of Neuve-Chapelle, the more dangerous it became. _

_Out of nowhere Branson was suddenly pulled up short as a force seemed to barrel into him, pushing him back a step. At first he didn't seem to feel the pain, just the impact of the bullet as it shot through his body. The adrenaline and shock initially dulled the pain of the injury and so he carried on going, unsure how bad he'd been hit and wanting to get to some form of safety. It wasn't until the first bullet was quickly followed by a second that the pain suddenly hit him with full force; now _that_ one he _definitely _felt. _

_His vision soon began to blur. It was like everything was going in slow motion around him. He suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion overcome him and he fell down onto his knees, his gun discarded, forgotten. He soon found himself lying on the ground, unsure how he'd gotten there, and took in the endless blue skies above him, his mind casting back to happier times._

_It was strange, surreal even, that all he could think of in that precise moment was something that had happened months ago. The announcement of the war, and the instant when his and Sybil's eyes met across the array of guests at the party, flashed though his mind in a heartbeat. The moment when everything changed. It was his last coherent thought before his eyes slipped closed and he descended into darkness._

Branson awoke with a start and immediately regretted the movement as a blinding pain shot through his chest, causing him to wince. He muttered a few choice swear words as his eyes attempted to adjust to his unfamiliar surroundings. His mind seemed to be trying it's best to keep up, trying to work out how he'd gotten there.

Soon it was obvious that he was currently in a field hospital, judging by the lines of beds filled with wounded soldiers. He tried once again to sit up and managed to lean against the wall behind him, eyes scanning the faces of his fellow injured comrades. Did he know any of them?

It was when his eyes landed on a nurse nearby that his mind was brought to Sybil. His heart suddenly sped up as his mind tried to clear the haze it was still under, questions whirling around in his head; Where was she? Was she alright? All these thoughts flashed through his mind before he realised, much to his relief, that she was safe; she was in England.

"Well don't you look like hell."

The all too familiar voice made Tom look to the left and grin as he was greeted with his friend Joe Murphy. Apart from a cut above his left eyebrow he looked the same as usual, confident grin still in place.

"Yeah, getting shot does that to you" he replied light-heartedly, "So you made it, huh?"

Joe's face turned uncharacteristically solemn as he replied, "Yeah, just about."

"How long have I been here?" Branson questioned, needing to fill in the blanks.

"You were brought in a few days ago."

A few _days_? He let the information sink in before deciding to broach a more serious matter. He took a deep breath, reluctant to know the answer but knowing he would find out sooner or later. Better to get it over with now.

"Who did we lose?" He didn't even need to ask _if _they'd lost anyone, it was a near certainty. Joe sighed and cast his glance to the floor before replying.

"Taylor, Miller, Webb, all dead, and a few others are in here somewhere" he finished with a quick gesture around the rest of the room, before returning his attention to Tom.

Branson raked his hand through his hair, unsure how to respond. They were people he'd known since training, men he'd known well, all with families and friends back home. He tried to imagine what would happen if _he_ had died, but he couldn't get past contemplating how Sybil would react that he had no time to think of what his family back home in Ireland would say.

When he didn't respond, Joe continued, unusually serious; "Well, I'm glad you're okay, thought we'd lost you there for a while."

Branson gave a half hearted laugh, "You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Yeah I know, you were lucky, must have had someone watching over you. Hey, maybe it was that girl of yours back home, what's her name again?"

Branson laughed, but immediately regretted it as the wound in his chest began to throb. Murphy may have thought he was joking in his vain attempt to win some money on the pool they still had going about Sybil's name, but he was probably closer to the truth than he thought. Even though he couldn't remember much after he was shot, the one thing Branson _did _remember was thinking of Sybil. Maybe she did help him stay alive he mused, though this thought just made him miss her more. They'd had so little time together before he'd left, he just wished he could have waited a few more months, or even until he was forced to, to sign up for the army.

He looked back at his friend, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, actually I would" he replied with a grin.

After Joe left, Branson was told he had to remain in the hospital for the time being. His wounds would heal, in time. How _much _time, exactly, he had no idea. He had only been there a few more days before he was approached by a nurse who stated she had news for him.

"What's going on?" he asked, confused.

She gave him a kind smile before replying; "You're going back to England."


	12. Chapter 12

Finally a new chapter!

Hope you enjoy & R&R :)

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_"Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven."_

_-Tryon Edwards_

**April 1915**

Sybil was worried.

She hadn't heard from Tom in weeks. Normally this wouldn't have been cause for too much alarm, but after finding out that he had been wounded she could only fear the worst. She soon found that the only way she could take her mind off things, albeit only slightly, was through her work at the hospital. It had taken some time at first, but she was now used to the sight of blood, and remained unphased by any sort of wounds that she was required to treat. The hospital was currently filled with men transferred over from the front lines for further care; whether they were too injured to go back, or just needed a few weeks of rehabilitation.

Sybil knew it was ridiculous of her, but her heartbeat would pick up ever so slightly every time a new soldier was brought into the ward. As she hadn't heard from Branson since before he went into battle, and she knew for a fact he was wounded, her only hope for more information would be from Tom himself coming through the doors, though she had to admit this was an absurd notion; for all the hospitals in England, and France for that matter, and she hoped he'd come into hers.

The days came and went, and still no word from him. She continued to check the lists, but to her relief his name didn't appear. It had been too long since she'd last received a letter, and every day that passed increased her worry that something was wrong.

It was a bright April afternoon, during her shift at the hospital, when everything changed.

She'd just finished changing the bandages of a few men on the ward, and headed over to help clean and sterilise some equipment, a task that had to be done all hours of the day in order to prevent the spread of infection. Sybil didn't particularly enjoy the job, but knew it was essential and so set to it. She'd barely made it two steps towards the door before something made her stop.

She wasn't sure what it was, just a nagging feeling in her stomach, but it made her turn around nonetheless.

Her breath caught in her throat as she was met with a figure standing in the doorway to the ward. She took in the person just metres away from her, her mind seeming to take too long to register what was going on.

Then it hit her.

"Tom" she stated, the words coming out as barely a whisper in her shock. She stood rooted to the spot, her heart racing as she took in his appearance. He looked particularly handsome in his army uniform, she barely managed to note, whilst standing there staring in disbelief.

The shock soon turned to an immense feeling of joy and relief that he was okay, and right there with her. He was safe.

When their eyes finally met, realisation crossed his features and it was as if they were the only two people there in that moment. As soon as he smiled at her she snapped out of her trance in a heartbeat, hitched up her skirt and ran over to him, ignoring all the looks of confusion, and most likely curiosity, she guessed were plastered on the surrounding people's faces.

At first he didn't recognise her in her uniform, but as soon as his eyes met hers he knew. She looked more beautiful in that than any of the fancy dresses she used to wear back in Downton.

Branson had arrived a week ago and was placed in a hospital on the other side of the city. He was well on his way to recovery, yet was required to remain in London for a while for rehabilitation until he was well enough to be sent back to the line. He'd only been allowed to leave the hospital that morning, and immediately set about tracking Sybil down. He had gotten the name of the hospital through her letters, so it didn't take him too long to find the place.

He'd spent the days ever since he'd been told he was coming back to England imagining all the different scenarios of how she would react when he saw her, yet nothing compared to the reality.

Branson's face lit up as she ran over to him, and he was forced to take a step back as she pulled him into a fierce hug.

Sybil held on to him as if he could be taken away from her again at any second. She was elated, and nothing could take that moment away from her.

"Easy" Branson stated, her hug threatening to tear his stitches. Though he supposed he'd happily tear his stitches a thousand times just to hug her again; to be reassured, just by that one embrace, that she still loved him just as much as he did her.

Sybil quickly pulled away, anxious, "Oh I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I did, didn't I? Oh, I shouldn't have just-", she stopped mid-ramble, clearly aware of how she must sound. She took in a breath and continued, asking only what she needed to know; "are you okay?"

He felt a sense of coldness wash over him she released him and took a step back, and silently cursed himself for saying anything, although he couldn't help but laugh as he saw her fret over him. He gave her a reassuring smile; "I'm fine, it's okay, really. I have a nurse right here if anything should happen" he returned, giving a slight nod and grin in her direction.

Sybil, reassured, smiled back at him. She felt like she was dreaming. She had imagined the countless possible ways in which they would be reunited, and she had to pinch herself to believe that this wasn't just another one of them that she would wake up from at any second.

"So I take it you're happy to see me" he stated, realising now how much he had really been missing her while he was away.

All the emotions Sybil was feeling suddenly seemed to come to the surface and she gave what she could only describe as a cross between a laugh and a sob as he smiled at her, "Of course I am!" she replied, "I was so worried, I mean I had no idea how badly you'd been wounded or-"

"Wait- you didn't get my letter?" Branson cut in with a questioning glance, momentarily confused, "I must have arrived before it" he reasoned, "I didn't mean for you to worry-"

Sybil couldn't dispel the smile that had appeared on her face ever since she had set eyes on him again; "Don't be silly, I don't care about that, this is a thousand times better than any letter!"

Silence followed. They just stood there, in the middle of the ward, not caring about anybody else in the world but eachother.

Sybil, suddenly seeming to realise there were lots of people around, pulled them back into the empty corridor, away from prying eyes. It wasn't as if people would judge them, and she doubted she would have been in the least bothered if they had. The two of them were no longer the 'Lady' and the 'chauffeur', but the nurse and the soldier; two equals. Class no longer meant anything in the time of war, and this was how Sybil felt it should always be.

She pulled him into another hug, this time being slightly more careful.

"I've missed you", Branson stated, his voice barely above a whisper; words for Sybil's ears only.

She pulled back slightly and responded with a kiss, catching him off-guard.

"I've missed you too."


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks for all the reviews and lovely comments, and I'm sorry for taking forever to get this chapter out; life = hectic! :)

Enjoy!

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"_It's not about how much time you spend together; it's what you do with the time you do spend together."_

_- Ashley Getsay_

**April 1915**

The next few days passed in a whirlwind, and Sybil couldn't remember ever being happier than she had been since Tom had arrived. Sybil had told him everything she possibly could about her training, but Branson, she noted, was particularly reserved about telling her about his time on the line. Every time it was even hinted upon he seemed to quickly change the subject and steer the conversation back in her direction. In that sense she was reminded of her father; he'd never really talked about his time at war, at least not to her anyway. She expected he wanted to keep that time away separate from his home life, and Branson probably wanted to do that too whilst he was in London. She soon learned not to ask him again; if he wanted to, he would tell her in his own time, when he was ready.

They hadn't had too much time together as Sybil had been working at the hospital non-stop for the days since he'd returned, so she was looking forward to that afternoon as they were both free for a few hours. Work at the hospital seemed to be getting more and more intense as the war dragged on. Every day new patients would arrive, wounds more awful than before, and the stress of it all seemed to be gradually catching up with her. There was also another thought that was weighing on her mind, one to do with Tom that she needed to speak to him about. She resolved to confront him later that day, when they had some time to themselves.

When her morning shift ended she was pleasantly surprised to find Tom waiting for her outside the hospital, just the sight of him immediately brightening up her particularly unpleasant day.

"You okay?" he asked, noting her weary expression and catching her in an embrace before she could take two steps outside.

Sybil smiled and pulled back, he always seemed to know what to do to cheer her up. "Can we just, go somewhere? Get away, just for a few hours? I need a break from all this" she stated, gesturing behind her to the hospital.

"Yes _milady_" he grinned, giving her a wink which made her face light up.

Branson couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so happy and carefree, probably just before the war was announced. He planned on making the most of his and Sybil's time together, however fleeting it turned out to be.

Upon her request Branson quickly grabbed hold of her hand and raced down the street, Sybil following behind laughing at the spontaneity of his actions whilst she attempted to keep her hat on her head with her free hand.

"Tom! Where are we going?" she questioned.

Branson turned to her, "It so happens I have something planned."

He guided her down a few streets before stopping at the house he had been temporarily staying in. He left her outside as he ran in, emerging with a basket and a blanket.

"A picnic!" Sybil beamed at him.

"Why not make the most of a beautiful day? Now it's not quite Mrs Patmore's level, but it'll do" he replied with a smile, watching her face and enjoying the smile that he knew he had put there.

They soon found themselves at a park and settled down to eat in a quiet spot by some trees. It reminded Sybil of her childhood when her and her sisters used to have picnics on the grounds of Downton in the summertime. Though those were the days when Mary and Edith actually got along with each other, Sybil noted with a hint of sadness. That reminded her that she should really write back to her family at home, she'd been so busy lately that she hadn't had a chance to reply to them in too long.

"Are you okay?" Branson asked, noting with concern her sombre, faraway look.

Sybil immediately snapped out of her reverie and turned to him, "Yes, I'm fine" she replied with a smile, "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Home"

"Do you miss it?"

Sybil thought for a moment, then shook her head slightly, "I'm not sure. Definitely not as much as I thought I would. I'm just glad I decided to _do_ something, I don't think I could have remained at home, I would have gone mad!"

"Well you're doing a good thing here, and God knows we need all the help we can get."

They slipped into a comfortable silence as they both just enjoyed being in each other's presence, knowing they would be separated again all too soon. Tom couldn't help but observe Sybil as she stared into the distance. There was definitely something worrying her, he could just tell by looking.

He leaned closer to her, placing his hand on hers, "Are you sure you're alright?"

When she didn't answer he continued; "Look, I know there's something bothering you, you know you can tell me anything."

He took in her profile as she gazed out across the park. There was a faraway look in her eyes and he waited patiently in the silence for her to answer.

Sybil sighed. "Can- Can we really make this work Tom?" she asked quietly, finally letting out what she had been thinking about for weeks, back before he had even returned, "_Please_ say we can make this work."

There was a note of pleading in her voice and it took all the restraint he had not to go over to her and hug her, to tell her everything would work out fine, because he had no idea if it would. So he said the only thing that he could; "There's no use worrying about that now, we don't know what's going to happen."

Sybil turned and looked him in the eyes, her face conveying her sudden feeling of shock and sorrow, "You mean if you don't come back."

Tom's reply was just silence and a morose look, and Sybil was forced to turn away again as tears pricked at her eyes. She took in a deep breath, "You promised me you'd come back, do you remember?"

Branson's mind flashed back to the day he left, their conversation in his cottage. Their first kiss. His agreement to her promise. As it flooded back to him it seemed to harden his resolve. He knew he couldn't let her down. He'd do anything for her, and if that mean't his return then he would make sure it happened.

"Yes" he replied "and I will."

There was something in his voice, something different. A sense of determination that gave Sybil hope he _would _return to her. He pulled her into a hug and her arms wrapped tightly around him, neither wanting to let the other go.

After a while they reluctantly pulled apart, "You ready to go?"

Sybil smiled and nodded. They packed up their things and walked hand in hand through the park, heading back towards the hospital in time for Sybil's afternoon shift and Tom's need to check back in with the hospital to see how his wounds were healing. Sybil had insisted she could do a better job, and Tom was sure she could, but they needed to keep records of his recovery to know how long until he could be shipped back overseas; something he didn't want to think about.

Branson had insisted on walking her straight to the hospital doors and Sybil felt the familiar pang in her heart every time they had to leave each other. She turned towards him as they reached the entrance, pulling him closer to give him a lingering kiss. Yet her good mood was short lived as an all too familiar voice called out behind her.

"Sybil?"

She whirled around, Tom's hand still remained clasped in hers. Her smile faded quickly to a look of shock as she took in the woman before her.

"Mama?"


	14. Chapter 14

So I'm back! Soooo sorry for the long wait & I have no idea if there's still interest, but thank you for all the reviews of the last chapter, especially** istoleyourshoe**'s lovely feedback :)

& apologies in advance if some characters get a little OOC

Enjoy & please review so I can see if anyone's still reading :)

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"_It is in your moments of __decision __that your destiny is shaped__"_

_- Anthony Robbins_

**April 1915**

"Mama?"

Cora was looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher. Was it surprise? Shock? Confusion? Whatever it was, Sybil concluded, it wasn't good.

Sybil blushed furiously and found it near impossible to look her mother in the eyes. She was grateful, although perhaps slightly annoyed, when Tom immediately dropped her hand. She hadn't realised they'd still been clasped together, and she supposed her mother wouldn't appreciate it, so he was really doing her a favour.

She hoped she hadn't witnessed anything, though by the look on Cora's face her luck had finally run out.

Sybil, not usually at a loss for words, could not think of what to say. All that was running through her mind was that this was how her family would find out. It was all too likely Cora would tell her father about what she had seen. Although, she quickly surmised, she could, with a lot of pleading, perhaps persuade her mother to keep quiet until the war was over and she got home.

She'd managed to persuade Mary, how hard would her mother be, really? The answer was much more difficult.

She plastered an all-too-enthusiastic smile on her face, this didn't have to be as bad as she expected. "What are you doing here Mama? I wasn't expecting you."

It wasn't as if she was unhappy to see her mother, quite the opposite in fact, it was rather that she had come at the worst possible time.

Cora sighed and met her daughter's reluctant gaze; "I came to see how my youngest daughter was doing, you haven't written in weeks," she gave a glance towards Branson, then back towards her daughter, "though I can see why," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Cora thought she perhaps sounded too accusatory towards her youngest, but to be honest she was slightly shocked. Sybil was the one daughter she thought she was beginning to understand, but now she was acting like Mary, and she didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

Sybil detected the obvious hint of disapproval in her voice and it only served to make her irritated. Unsure how to reply, she glanced briefly to the side and was met with Branson's reassuring smile, though inside his thoughts were racing. His concern was not for himself, but rather for Sybil. _Would her mother tell the rest of her family? How would her father react? _The latter question brought him up short, he'd never really thought about it before. But how _would _Lord Grantham react? He wouldn't allow it, Branson quickly concluded. Plain and simple. But he couldn't just let her go. It would kill him. Yet would it be the right thing to do for Sybil?

"Branson" Cora began, cutting though the uncomfortable silence, "I'm glad to see you are well."

Branson inclined his head slightly, "Thank you, milady."

A short period of silence followed before Tom turned to Sybil, "I think it would be best if I go, I need to check in with the hospital and you can spend some time with her Ladyship."

Sybil nodded gratefully and gave him a small smile before watching him as he turned and left, but not before acknowledging Cora with a nod of his head.

Branson had been reluctant to leave her there, but knew it was for the best. Cora would undoubtedly have something to say to her daughter about the uncompromising position she had caught them in, and he figured his presence would only make matters worse for Sybil. He decided he would visit her later to see if everything worked out alright.

Upon Branson's departure Cora rounded on Sybil, clearly concerned; "Sybil, _what_ are you thinking?"

Sybil, initially surprised, tried to explain, "Mama, please just listen-"

"No! This has to stop _right now_, I'm only thinking about what's best for you-"

"No" Sybil interrupted, growing increasingly annoyed; "you're doing what's best for _you_. If you were thinking about what's best for me you'd let it go, we're happy-"

Cora sighed, finding these new developments hard to process, "And I want you to be happy darling, more than anything, but you have to think about things in a wider perspective, your father's reaction for one. It was hard enough persuading him to let you come here, never mind allowing you to marry outside your class!" Cora did a double take, looking her daughter in the eye, "You haven't married already have-"

"No! No, of course not Mama, but that's not the point. Why can we not get married one day? I mean who cares about family reputations? I've played the perfect daughter all my life, it's about time I got a chance to do what I want, be who I want to be, without having to change for our reputation's sake!"

"I'm sorry Sybil, but I just can't allow-"

"I love him Mama" Sybil cut in, needing her mother to see what he meant to her, what she was asking her to give up, but it didn't garner the response she had hoped for.

"Love?" Cora looked incredulous, "You're just a child, you don't know what you're feeling."

Sybil was growing increasingly desperate for her to understand, but she didn't know what else she _could_ say. She took a deep breath and tried one last time, looking her mother in the eyes, "Please, Mama. I'm asking you to just let me be happy."

Her words made Cora pause and she waited anxiously for a response. Sybil's heart dropped as her mother shook her head slightly, "I'm sorry but I just can't give you my consent, and as much as I love you and want to see you happy, you have gone too far this time."

Sybil felt her throat tighten and she tried to blink away the tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall. No. She wouldn't just give up. Give _him _up.

"You have to decide Sybil. Branson, or your family."

Sybil couldn't hold back the look of shock that materialized on her face. Of course she expected her mother to be angry, but to threaten to disown her?

"But Mama, you can't mean-"

"I'm sorry my dear" and Sybil noted she at least looked sincere, "but I can't let this happen."

Sybil flinched as Cora reached out a hand to her, taking a small step back away from her mother.

"There's a high chance he won't even make it back."

This was the last straw for Sybil. She felt anger welling up inside her, a determination she had never felt before overcame her and she stood up straight, looking her mother directly in the eyes.

"You want me to be happy, but you won't _let _me be happy. You wanted me to decide? Well I have. I choose _him_ Mama, I choose Tom because he would never, _never_ make me choose."

Sybil took a breath, attempting to reign in her emotions, "I don't even care if you tell Papa, seeing as I am no longer a part of this_ family_." She paused, throwing her mother a cold look before turning towards the hospital doors in a bid to leave as soon as possible. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her emotions in check so wanted to get out of Cora's sight immediately, Sybil didn't want her mother to see her look weak, to look like she needed her.

Cora had not believed for a second her youngest daughter would choose him over her own family. She had assumed it was just an infatuation, nothing more, and giving her the choice would be the easiest way to stop this before it went too far. She had obviously underestimated Sybil's affections and now her daughter was on the verge of being lost to her forever. Realising her terrible mistake Cora called her back.

"No Sybil, wait!"

Sybil glanced back, halfway through the hospital doors, tears she couldn't hold back leaving a trail down her cheeks. "Goodbye Mama" Sybil stated coldly, "I do not wish to see you again" and with that she closed the door behind her, leaving her mother standing outside alone, a sense of guilt and regret etched on her face.


	15. Chapter 15

Apologies again for the random updates, inspiration and motivation have been lacking for this fic lately, though I'm sure there will be more regular updates when season 2 starts and I'm in Downton Abbey obsession mode :P

Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter, they are definitely a motivator to write so thank you :)

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"_Oh tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart"_

_- White Blank Page (Mumford and Sons)_

**June 1915**

It had been almost a month, Tom recalled, since he'd found Sybil trying to hide her obvious distress following the confrontation with her mother. It had taken some coaxing, but she had finally told him the whole story, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. Her mother, he couldn't quite believe, had told her to choose between them, and to Branson's continued disbelief she had chosen him. Yet, his elation at this was heavily clouded by the fact that she had in effect sacrificed her own family for his sake, and that he couldn't accept.

As the weeks went by, although she hadn't spoken of it, Tom could tell Sybil was still affected by her mother's words. Her family had yet to contact her in any form and Branson hated that there was nothing he could do to fix things, though he hoped it would work itself out in time. Every time he attempted to broach the subject with her she'd cut him off, telling him that if they wanted to see her again they'd have to accept her choices and make the first move, as there was certainly no way she was going to beg her family for forgiveness. Tom couldn't help but give a small smile at her spirit and stubborn nature when she had told him that.

Branson's health gradually returned and he spent every possible minute in Sybil's presence, knowing he'd get sent back to the line as soon as the hospital gave him a clean bill of health. The prospect of leaving Sybil alone, especially with no family to turn to, troubled him. Of course she had many friends, a fact unsurprising to anyone who knew her, but Branson still wished her family would have a change of heart and at least get into contact with her.

It was early June when Branson had been informed he would be heading back to France soon. It was this that spurred him to do something he'd been putting off for a while, something he needed to say. The fact that it was now effectively set in stone that he was leaving again made him want to make absolutely sure Sybil would be alright once he did so.

He headed to the hospital, as had become his routine, to meet her after her shift ended. His concern immediately heightened when she wasn't waiting for him like usual. He was instead greeted by another familiar face, Sophie, one of Sybil's friends, and fellow nurse, who he had gotten to know well from his frequent visits. She looked solemn as Branson approached.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, "Is Sybil-?"

"She's okay" Sophie immediately reassured, "though she received a letter this morning, from her family I think. She was reading it when I left, I don't think it was good news Tom, you should go through and see her."

Branson nodded his thanks and followed her into the hospital.

Sybil opened the letter slowly, would it be more hurtful words from her mother, or even her father? Her heart sped up until she unfolded it to reveal the elaborate flourish of her sister Mary's elegant hand and sighed slightly in quiet relief. She was glad it was her oldest sister; she was one of the few who seemed to understand, yet what was inside wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear.

_Dearest Sister, _

_It has been so long since I have spoken to you, and I am sorry that I do not bring happier news. Mama has told me what happened when she saw you in London last month and I knew I must write to you immediately. She is dreadfully upset by how she reacted, but I'm afraid she is still adamant that you need to find a husband worthy of your position. I have tried to talk to her for you, but cannot get her to change her mind. Due to my insistence she has yet to tell Papa about you and Branson, but I don't know how long that will last as I'm sure Papa can tell something is wrong. __I will keep you updated on everything here, and will try to talk to Mama again on your behalf._

_I'm sorry for the shortness of this letter, but I hope it finds you well, and you do not take Mama's words too badly._

_Best wishes, _

_Mary_

Although she was happy to have heard from her sister, the news concerning her mother was enough to make her scrunch up the paper and throw it across the room, just as Tom walked through the door. "Sybil?" he questioned, concerned, as he took in the discarded letter on the floor by his feet then looked back to Sybil who was sitting by the table in the centre of the room, "from your mother?"

Sybil exhaled in annoyance, "Mary" she replied, "She says Mama won't change her mind. I think my sister believes this can all be sorted out, but until I hear from my mother directly I will never feel welcome back at home. I just- I just don't know what to do."

Branson held on to the small mercy that Sybil still had her oldest sister on her side, and hopefully her family would follow in due course. He sighed and headed over to the table, pulling up another chair to sit next to her. He took Sybil's hands in his own; "I'm so sorry for all of this" he began.

"What? No, it's not your fault," Sybil interjected, "It's my mother's prejudices and concern for our _reputation_. And anyway, you can't help who you fall in love with."

He leaned closer and captured her lips with his. Breaking away slightly, he pressed his forehead against hers as his eyes remained closed. "I love you too Lady Sybil" he began, "and you know I would never do anything to hurt you." He leaned back and looked her in the eye, "but I couldn't live with myself if I was the reason you never saw your family again. Promise me that if anything happens-"

Sybil seemed about to interrupt, but shaking his head slightly he continued, "If anything happens to me promise me you'll go back home, I don't want you to be alone."

"And _when_ you come back?" she replied.

"Then I'll be there with you at the doors of Downton to see your family ask for your forgiveness for their foolishness. I don't know how anyone could bear to not see your face again." This brought a smile to her face causing his own spirits to rise.

"So you promise?" he questioned, needing to hear her say it so she'd follow through with it if anything were to happen to him.

Sybil sighed, "Yes, I promise."

Branson smiled warmly at her, reassured.

"Where's all this coming from?" Sybil asked, confused. She paused as realisation dawned on her, "they're sending you back aren't they?"

Branson nodded slowly and Sybil tried to keep composed, "When?"

"At the end of this week, I'm fully recovered and fit for duty."

Sybil nodded her understanding, she needed to stay strong for him. Then a thought crossed her mind; "Now seeing as I'm making _you_ a promise, you can remember the one you made me."

Branson paused, knowing exactly what she was referring to. When he had promised her he would return. The current moment felt like some sort of parallel; he was leaving her again, and he couldn't bear it, "Of course I do."

"Tell me you won't break it."

"I won't."


	16. Chapter 16

Surprise! Another chapter, yes I know I take forever but I swear this WILL get finished!

& to everyone who's stuck with this THANK YOU :D

R&R and I hope you enjoy :)

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"_Don't be afraid of opposition. Remember, a kite rises against, not with, the wind."_

_- Hamilton Wright Mabie_

**July 1915 **

Sybil had watched him leave for France, yet again, and this time seemed so much harder than the last.

Their last moments together until who knew when took place on the platform of the train station. She'd held his gaze for as long and she could, wondering if it would be the last time she would ever set eyes on him. The thought made her feel hollow. What if he didn't make it? She'd have no one, not really. Her family would look at her differently, maybe not Mary, but certainly her mother. That was if she even _went_ back home.

She pushed the thoughts aside and put on a brave smile. Waving him off, her eyes never left the train until it disappeared out of sight, and even then she remained stood rooted to the spot for several minutes until the whistle signalling the arrival of the next train pulled her out of her stupor.

She could hardly recall her walk back to the hospital, it was as if she was in a trance, playing out countless scenarios in her mind of what her future would hold.

By the time she got back she had to get straight to work and donned her uniform for another endless gruelling day. She figured the work would take her mind off things, it had in the past, and it seemed to work. She fell easily back into the routine and reminded herself of the promise she made herself all those months ago about being sent to France. This gave her a focus and she poured all her energy into fulfilling that promise. 

**June 1916**

Sybil managed to maintain a relatively frequent correspondence with Tom, and eagerly awaited his letters. She recalled the quote _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ and believed it a fitting one for her situation. The worry for his life was, of course, still there, but over time she had managed to put that to the back of her mind and focus on the positive.

Yet, the one thing she _didn't_ receive, and which made her more upset than she thought she would get, were any letters from her family. She could understand about her mother, she had told her plainly not to contact her, and even her father who, from what she could gather, was away from Downton aiding the war effort, but the fact that neither of her sisters, not even Mary, even wrote to her hurt the most. Granted, she had received a few from Mary over the months following Tom's departure, but they just stopped coming and she hadn't heard anything in over six months.

She was beginning to think her mother had taken her advice about not seeing her again, and for the first time she began to regret her words. Yet, when she remembered _why_ she had said those things, it reinforced her determination that she had done the right thing and there was no reason why she couldn't do it on her own.

Despite this she did still see her Aunt Rosamond on occasion, and she was fairly certain she was keeping an eye on her for her mother, or even perhaps Mary. This lack of contact, and Branson being so far away constantly at risk on the front lines, made her feel more alone than ever. Yes, she had her friends, but it wasn't the same.

The silence between Sybil and the rest of her family was broken by an unexpected letter which she received following a difficult shift at the hospital. More wounded had been shipped over and it had been a particularly exhausting day. Yet, now she was an experienced VAD nurse and could handle just about anything that was thrown at her, even the professionally trained nurses seemed impressed, and that was an achievement worth celebrating.

At first she just stood still, staring at the letter for a long moment, taking in the elaborate curves of Mary's handwriting.

_There must be something wrong_, Sybil concluded before opening it, _Why now? _ She wondered, _especially after all this time making it seem like I don't exist?_

For a second she considered throwing it into the nearest fire, yet her curiosity overruled her stubbornness and she opened it up.

_Dearest Sybil,_

_I'm terribly sorry I haven't written in so long, I feel just awful about it, but it was with good reason. Things have been chaotic to say the least since I last wrote you, but I hope you will be happy to hear Matthew proposed whilst on leave and we shall hopefully be married when the war is over. I do so hope you will attend. _

Sybil practically beamed at the unexpected happy news; she loved weddings and one between Matthew and Mary of all people? She couldn't quite believe it. Yet, this happiness was short-lived as she read the rest of the letter.

_Though I'm afraid I did not just send this letter to tell you the happy news. Papa returned home last month and wanted to know how you were. Obviously Mama had no answer and she ended up telling him about you and Branson. He said you must break it off immediately or else he will come down to London and do it himself, dragging you back if he must. _

_I'm so sorry my darling, I tried my best to help you but Papa is as stubborn as you and he will not bend._

_I'm coming down to London very soon to see you, I expect Branson is away fighting and I do not think you should be alone._

_All my love,_

_Mary_

Sybil remained composed as she folded the letter back up and placed it in her pocket. So she was going to lose everything, and for what, following her heart? It just didn't seem fair. She supposed she still had Mary, and she guessed Matthew would also be supportive. In the back of her mind she still held on to the faint hope that her father would change his mind, just like he'd done when she wanted to go and train as a nurse, although this time she suspected she wouldn't have her mother's support in the matter like she had had back then.

She cast her mind back to her days at Downton and how well she and her father got on. It brought a pang to her heart to think that there was a significant possibility she would never have that relationship with him again.

She even surprised herself in how she handled the letter, deciding to take things one step at a time. She would look forward to her sister's visit, look forward to Tom's next letter, and not worry about her parents until they turned up on her doorstep. It was a refreshing feeling, and a testament, she felt, to how much she had grown and become independent since leaving Downton to come to London.

The next two weeks followed, just like the last two, until she was called to attend a meeting for a large number of the nurses at the hospital. She noticed a few weren't in attendance, primarily the youngest and most recent arrivals. There was to be an announcement, and Sybil waited anxiously for it.

Her heart began to speed up. She was sure she knew what was coming, but actually hearing the words made everything seem that much more real.

"We have some news for you all. The war is at a critical stage with the army preparing for one of the largest offensives yet, and it requires your services in a more direct manner. Though you may refuse if you so wish, you're being sent to France to aid the brave men fighting for their country."


	17. Chapter 17

New chapter! Nearly done with the next 2 chapters so they should be up relatively soon :) The story's looking to be around 25 parts overall & it will be finished! :P

Please take the time to review, I love to hear what you think! :D

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_"An older sister is a friend and defender - a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights. And sorrows too."_

_- Pam Brown_

**June 1916**

Sybil had decided not to tell Tom about her imminent departure to France. She had withheld the information from the last letter she had sent after the announcement. She of course knew that he would be fully supportive, yet in the back of her mind she was quite sure he would still be unhappy about her being so close to the ongoing conflict. The last thing she wanted to do was worry him needlessly; she would be quite safe, but felt his worry may distract him, by however small a degree, to his task at hand in the looming battle.

She was currently sat at the table in the kitchen, reading though Tom's last letter. She was always amazed at his way with words and knew he was far more educated though his reading than most gentlemen she knew. She smiled at his references to their last meeting, yet sobered up towards the end as he became more serious, knowing this could very well be his last letter.

A knock on the doorframe of the open door pulled her out of her melancholy thoughts. Sybil glanced up to see her eldest sister smiling at her from the doorway. She leapt up immediately, mirroring her sister's look of glee and flew across the room to embrace her.

"I didn't know you'd be coming so soon!" Sybil exclaimed.

"I wanted it to be a surprise; it's so good to see you! I hardly recognised you when one of the other nurses pointed you out," Mary paused, appraising her youngest sister, "don't you miss the beautiful dresses you used to wear?" she asked, gesturing to her rather unflattering nursing attire with a fleeting look of distaste.

Sybil sighed in bemusement; the war obviously hadn't changed everything about Mary. But still, the fact that she was there was like having a little piece of home. A home that it seemed she was unlikely to return to considering how her relationship with her parents was going. She immediately shook that thought away and focused on her sister.

"I was so happy to hear about you and Matthew!" Sybil began.

They sat and talked for what seemed like hours. After they had exhausted the topic of Mary's love life, Sybil sighed and prepared herself for the next topic of conversation, deciding to prompt it herself.

"So Mary, tell me honestly. Will Papa and Mama ever talk to me again?"

Mary paused, her previous smile fading into a look of sympathy. "Papa was livid when he found out about you and Branson, and Mama supports him wholeheartedly. I tried to help you my dear, but you must have seen this coming. I told you to be careful. He's not of our class and there is no way Papa would accept you two together. I'm so sorry. I'll help any way I can, but you may have to go to Downton yourself, see if you can talk them round."

Sybil gave a short nod, the news was not totally unexpected, "Well, going back won't be possible anytime soon" she began, "they're sending me to France." She stood up and smoothed down her dress, trying her hardest to avoid her eldest sister's stunned expression.

At first Mary was lost for words, but then she quickly came to her senses, "You can't be serious?"

Sybil looked back at her from across the room, "There's to be an offensive. No one's sure when exactly, everything's kept secret, but I can do some _good_ over there Mary, so much more than I'm doing here in England."

For Mary this conversation was too familiar to the one she and Sybil had had before her youngest sister left Downton. Sybil had argued she could do good in London, much more than she was doing at home. Considering how determined she had been to go to London then, there was little doubt she would follow through with her plans to go to France now.

"There is no way Papa would let you go-"

"Well then it's lucky he's all but abandoned me then, isn't it?" Sybil snapped back harshly.

Mary sighed, "Don't speak of him like that, Sybil. This is hard for him too you know, and Mama as well. They still love you, it's just you're making choices that are going against everything they know. A lady and a chauffeur? It's unheard of!"

When her youngest sister failed to reply, Mary returned the conversation to the topic that was bothering her most, "So when are you leaving for France?"`

"Soon, possibly by the end of the week. Though first they need to organise where we're being sent."

"Sybil, are you certain it's not dangerous? And anyway, aren't you too young to go?"

Sybil considered telling her she'd told them she was older, but figured, just in case Mary felt the need to prevent her from going, she shouldn't give her any ammunition. She instead answered the first question posed, and ignored the latter; "It shouldn't be too dangerous, I won't be that close to the line anyway. They have Army Medics that tend immediately to those on the line, and then send them up to us in the field hospitals."

Mary nodded her understanding, though the thought of her sister in a war zone still greatly troubled her.

"So, have you heard from Branson at all? Matthew returned to the line last week and I can't help but worry for him."

Sybil was initially caught off guard by the mention of Tom in such a conversational manner, but welcomed the fact Mary had seemed to have accepted them together. She was also grateful there was someone else that knew just how she was feeling; the anxiety of looking through the casualty lists, and even the newspaper headlines referencing wherever in the world Branson was stationed, was enough to put Sybil on the verge of a heart attack every time she looked at them. She could tell Mary was also feeling the dark cloud hanging over them, especially after hearing mentions of a larger offensive than had ever been seen before involving thousands of soldiers, Tom and Matthew most likely included.

"Yes, he's sent a couple of letters, but thanks to censorship and the unpredictable communication lines the system is slow, so it's taking much longer than it should to get letters though. Though I received a letter yesterday and he's in good spirits so I'm happy," Sybil replied with a faint smile to her sister.

Sybil soon found that she had to get back to work soon, and Mary had to get to Aunt Rosamund's in time for dinner. Mary was leaving London the next morning as it was only a fleeting visit, so it was likely the last time they would see each other until Sybil returned.

As they parted ways, Mary embraced her fiercely and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Good luck."


	18. Chapter 18

The fact I'm a history student may come through a bit in this chapter :P

Thanks to **ofthewood** and **theblondeone07** for the lovely reviews, this chapter's for you!

& next chapter's nearly done, it will be where all the action happens!

Please review if you have the time, they definitely encourage me to write! :D

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"_Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.__"_

_- Aristotle_

**June 1916**

Slowly moving further and further away, leaving Sybil standing alone on the platform as his train departed, was one of the hardest things he had ever done. So much harder than running across an open field in a war zone, fearing for your life; leaving her on her own, especially after the disagreement she had had with her family, inevitably left a weight in a back of his mind he couldn't rid himself of.

That had been almost a year to the day, and the memory still lingered in his mind.

He longed to see her again, yet they needed all the men they could on the line. He was currently stationed in the reserve trenches, and the only way for him to possibly return to England would be through injury.

They'd kept up a frequent correspondence; he wrote whenever he could, it was the only thing he looked forward to, the only form of light in the gloom that the war had become. He'd recently sent her a letter, keeping in good spirits so that she, in turn, would too. That was how Branson's mind seemed to work lately; he had to be optimistic about things or else he would sink into despair.

New replacements had been coming in constantly due to heavy losses in their division, so much so that Branson was one of only a small group of men still remaining from the training camp. As he was currently in the reserve trenches, there was much more freedom to move. On the front lines he would stay huddled in the trenches for days on end, yet now he welcomed the opportunity to run errands. He was currently on such an errand when he was stopped in his tracks by an all too familiar voice.

"Branson is that you?"

As he turned he was greeted by the last person he expected to see. To say Branson was surprised at Matthew's appearance was a severe understatement.

Tom wasn't certain as to what Matthew's reaction to him would be. From what Sybil had told him he and Mary were supportive of them being together, though Branson had yet to come face to face with either of them to see for himself.

"Yes, Sir" Branson replied, addressing him how he would any other officer.

They exchanged other pleasantries and how the war had been going in their respective divisions, and Branson seemed to even forget for a time that he was talking to someone of superior rank, someone whose family he used to work for. Matthew's friendly attitude towards him eased his anxiety somewhat and he was glad that they were on good terms with each other; that would definitely please Sybil.

When Matthew paused in their conversation, Branson got the feeling something was troubling him, something he needed to say but wasn't sure how to put it.

"Is everything alright?" Tom asked, curious.

Matthew wasn't sure whether it was his place to say, but figured Branson should know if he didn't already.

"Branson" he began, initially uncertain, "You must know that there just aren't enough medics to attend to the increasing number of casualties." When Tom nodded he continued, "So the government has been sending more and more VAD units to us."

Branson took a deep breath, not liking where this was heading.

"Sybil came with them last week."

"She's here?" Branson replied, stunned. He knew she was determined, and the idea of coming to France had come up in their conversations, but he'd never thought it would actually happen.

When Matthew nodded in confirmation, Branson began to question him; he needed more answers.

"Is she far from the line?" Even Sybil being a few miles away from the conflict was too close.

Matthew noted Branson's clear anxiety about the matter, "I don't think she's in any immediate danger" he replied, trying to reassure him.

Matthew's words did little to quell Tom's fears for her safety. "It's not far enough" he muttered, more to himself than to Matthew.

A shout came from behind them and Matthew turned around in response, "I must go attend to an important matter, but I'm sure Sybil will be fine. She's well away from the line, surrounded by our soldiers, she's in the best place she can be."

_No, the best place she could be would be back at Downton, or even just in England_, Branson wanted to reply, but thought better of it. There was nothing he could say to Matthew that would change anything anyway, so just nodded in response.

As Matthew turned to leave he extended his hand out towards Tom. Branson was initially caught by surprise at the gesture; one usually restricted to those of equal rank, and took a second to reach out his own.

Matthew shook his hand and gave him a quick nod, "Good luck."

"You too."

xxxxxxx

General Haig's plans for the forthcoming battle were passed down through the ranks until Branson was sat in a room full of his fellow soldiers being briefed about the basics of the assault. There would be 13 British and 11 French divisions involved on the allies' side for the opening phase of the offensive.

Preceding the infantry assault they were told there would be 6 days worth of artillery bombardment of the German lines.

On the 7th day of the bombings it was clear the assault was being postponed for a day due to the bad weather. After a week of endless explosions Tom was on the verge of losing his mind, especially when he let his thoughts drift to the main assault that he would have to take part in on the following day.

The rain poured down in incessant waves, creating an endless pattering that was beginning to drive him mad. The fields of France were coated in a thick layer of mud and he couldn't remember the last time his boots, or clothes for that matter, were dry. Everyone was feeling the tension that the past week of shelling had provoked.

At 7.30 am on the 1st July the bombings suddenly ceased, though the ringing in Branson's ears still remained, to be replaced by an eerie stillness.

The silence permeated the air, infecting everyone with a heightened sense of unease.

That meant only one thing; it was time to attack.


	19. Chapter 19

Downton's back and it was AMAZING *fangirls*

Anyways, I actually quite liked writing this chapter; it's where things get intense …

It will alternate between Sybil and Branson's POV's, should be simple enough to tell who's who (I hope :P)

Reviews are love :D

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"_War is delightful to those who have had no experience of it"_

_- __Deciderius Erasmus_

**July 1916**

The silence was deafening.

Despite her distance from the line, Sybil had heard the bombardments of the previous few days as the allied forces tried to destroy the enemy line. Yet now it was silent. Somehow, hearing nothing from the front was worse than hearing the bombs. It meant the advance was most likely underway. Tom was there, risking his life yet again.

xxx

Branson spared a glance for the line of men to his right stretching down the full length of the trench, knowing on his left that it would be exactly the same. Looks ranging from fear to anger to acceptance covered their faces and Tom gripped his rifle to his chest, waiting for the signal to ascend the ladder.

A whistle pierced the air. An ominous sound in the previous silence. The signal to advance.

Branson took a deep breath and, gathering his courage, climbed up into a hail of bullets and out onto No Man's Land.

xxx

The doors burst open and the silence was pierced by the cries of wounded men and the rapid footfalls of both doctors and nurses racing to their aid.

Sybil could only watch in stunned silence as the beds filled up with new patients, recently brought off the front lines after encountering enemy fire.

The battle had begun, and it was over whelming. Sybil was thrown violently out of her comfort zone and into what could only be described as hell.

xxx

'Hell' wasn't near terrible enough a word to describe the scene unfolding before him. Branson had thought that the battle where he had been wounded was bad, but this … this was so much worse.

His mind drifted to Sybil, imagining how she was coping at the field hospital. It was strange to think that she was so close, yet so far from him at that very moment.

He suddenly flinched as warm liquid spattered his face and stole a glance to his left. His gaze fell to a man on the ground, the face he recognised, yet he couldn't put a name to it. He'd been shot in the head, and in some way Branson was jealous; a quick death and he was free of this nightmare. He felt sort of detached, rather than fearful, as he stared for a mere second at the unknown man, left lying on a battlefield with hundreds of others so far from home.

xxx

She was paralysed by fear as she stared in shock at the severely wounded soldier in front of her.

It felt like she was submerged in water, everything was in a blur around her and voices seemed muffled, far away. She felt as if someone had taken the oxygen out of the room as her breathing became erratic. She took a step back and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to try and calm herself down.

Being there in the field hospital was nothing like she had imagined. She had pictured how bad things would be, but somehow it had ended up a hundred times worse. She thought she would have been okay due to all her time at the hospital in London, but this was different. It was just so much more _intense_ than anything she had ever experienced. Injuries were far more serious than what she had previously handled. Everything was happening at a faster pace and she was constantly trying to catch up.

But she was determined not to back down. She had to prove her family wrong. She had to make Tom proud. He was fighting miles away in a freezing cold trench and she was relatively safe in a field hospital some distance from the line, and wasn't the one in the path of the bullets. She could do this; it was her duty as a nurse.

These men were risking their lives for their country; the least she could do is try to save them.

She thought about the wounded man; he was someone's son, maybe someone's husband, father, uncle.

He could have been Tom.

This last thought snapped her back to reality and her eyes flew open. Everything seemed clearer, and she knew what she had to do.

xxx

A bullet zipped through the air and brought Branson back to his senses in an instant. His eyes parted from his fleeting glance at his fallen comrade and back forward towards the unknown. The mud beneath his feet was thick and difficult to trudge through following days of rain.

He continued walking, hating his vulnerable state against an enemy who were clearly unaffected by the constant bombardment of their positions during the previous few days.

xxx

"Nurse!"

Her head snapped up as she realised a man was calling over to her. He was clearly a surgeon, one she had seen briefly before but figured he was based at another hospital. She took in his blood stained hands and the struggling patient he was attempting to keep still.

With newfound confidence she raced over to him, placing her hands on top of the surgeons to attempt to stem the flow of blood coming from his shoulder. She soon realised that his shoulder injury was the least of his worries as the surgeon began work on his stomach where a gaping wound was exposing his internal organs. Sybil forced herself to keep calm and retain pressure on the shoulder wound.

She looked down at his face and attempted to use soothing words to calm him down, as opposed to physical restraint.

The wounded continued to arrive, even long after the all the beds had filled. They had even been forced to lay men on stretchers on the floor to treat them. Sybil glanced at the boots scattered across the floor and the piles of discarded muddy and bloodied clothing. It was clear this battle was of an unimaginable magnitude, and Sybil dreaded the prospect of Tom being brought in though the door.

xxx

Time seemed to slow almost to a standstill.

Branson could hear it the split second before it landed. A soft whistling noise gradually increasing in pitch as it approached.

He barely had time to turn away before a strong force sent him flying backwards into the unknown.


	20. Chapter 20

YOU ARE NOT HALLUCINATING, THIS IS AN ACTUAL UPDATE.

So sadly I don't even watch Downton anymore after the travesty that was Sybil's death, and so I lost track of this fic. I've always intended to come back to it at some point as I've had a lot of the rest of it written, but obviously it's taken me a while!

No idea if anyone's still interested in reading it, but i'm posting this anyway in order to resolve the cliffhanger and hopefully (at some point) get it finished!

* * *

_No matter how much falls on us, we keep plowing ahead. That's the only way to keep the roads clear."_

― _Greg Kincaid_

**July 1916**

Everything was dark.

He lay on his back, cold seeping into his clothes, confusion blurring his thoughts. He struggled to remember where he was as a ringing pounded through his skull.

Then it hit him. The battle, the war, the fighting, the bodies, _the blood_.

Branson kept still as he attempted to bring his senses back into some semblance of order. Then, as his headache faded into a dull throb, he slowly opened his eyes. The light he was expecting didn't come, only darkness remained. His heartbeat sped up and he blinked a few times, clearing away the blurriness and taking in the thousands of tiny dots of light in the sky.

_It was night time already?_

As he grew more accustomed to the ache in his head, he began to notice the eerie silence that surrounded him. It was a world away from the atmosphere of earlier, as he'd marched across the battlefield and been thrown backwards by an unseen force like nothing he'd ever felt before. He'd barely had time to register what was happening before a sharp pain had lanced through his head and he'd faded into unconsciousness, which right now he counted as a blessing. He was still alive anyway, and the passing thought that he would be able to see Sybil's face again filled him with hope.

Suddenly a bullet cut through the silence, startling him. Tom took a deep breath and exhaled, he could tell that thankfully it hadn't been close by. As he lay on the damp ground he listened. Other than the occasional caw of birds or flashes and bangs of sporadic gunfire from both sides, it was quiet.

Then the realisation came over him with distinct clarity. He was stranded in the middle of No Man's Land.

If he stood up, or even tried to move, there was every chance he could be mown down with bullets from either side or picked off by a sniper. Tom figured it was too dark for anyone at a sufficient distance to distinguish who he fought for. He sighed and closed his eyes. He needed to think.

He figured the darkness would be an adequate cover for him to get back to his own line. If he kept low, and moved slowly, hopefully he could remain undetected. It was a slim hope, but better than nothing.

Tom hissed as he turned onto his front as a sharp pain radiated across his chest. A fleeting thought compared it to the pain he'd received when he'd been shot earlier in the war, but he quickly pushed that to the back of his mind. At least this time he hadn't been shot. He guessed at least one broken rib, but had to try and block it out of his mind so he could get himself out of this mess. There was nothing he could do about it right now anyway, and he hoped that was at least the extent of his injuries.

He tucked his head down and began to drag himself through the mess of mud and blood, thankful for the darkness so that he couldn't see the extent of the massacre. It was a long way back to the British line, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. If he wanted to see Sybil again, he could damn well drag his body back to safety.

xxx

A cold chill went up her spine and stopped her in her tracks.

Sybil cast a quick glance around at the array of men sleeping in the beds and stretchers that littered the room. It was quiet, the time approaching two in the morning, yet she was still on duty, cleaning the smatters of blood staining the floor an ugly red.

She looked down at her hands as she scrubbed; they were covered in dried blood, a harsh reminder of the previous day. Memories flooded her mind, ones she would do anything to forget. Sitting back on her knees she took a breath, knowing this quiet wouldn't last long. As soon as they had more room, endless more soldiers would be brought through the doors and her fear for Tom being brought through them would be amplified yet again.

The assault of the previous day had been the largest of the war so far, and there had been an unprecedented number of casualties. Just hearing others talk about the massacre of soldiers, the numbers that had been cut down, made her feel as though a vice had been closed around her chest. She'd asked around to see of anyone knew Branson, and even found a man in his division who knew him, but he hadn't seen him since the whistle blew to go over the top. There was every chance Tom was one of the dead, and the mere thought set her nerves on edge. She put her hand to her chest and closed her eyes, trying to get her breathing under control without disturbing any of the patients.

There was no confirmation. She had to have hope, because if she didn't, what else was there?

She gave a weary smile at a fellow nurse who came to relieve her of cleaning. She was told to go get some rest for the inevitably busy day ahead, and she made no objections as she dragged her exhausted body towards her shared sleeping quarters. Sybil scrubbed her hands and nails clean and peeled off her dirtied uniform with a relieved sigh. Falling onto her bed she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.


End file.
